That Restless Summer
by Tsukiko Lily
Summary: Everyone always said that Cecilia and Nicholas were like brother and sister, but as they got older, they wanted something more... Unfortunately for them, so do Russell and Sabrina. Cecilia/Nicholas, Russell/Sabrina, some Raguna/Tori. Nostalgia, introspection, and angst galore! UPDATE: Chapter 4 is up! The plot thickens... Cecilia and Russell focus. Plus: everyone gets drunk!
1. Preamble: That Heavy Dark Something

**Author's Note:** I know that I have not written fic in a long while! But rest assured, I'm still a huge Rune Factory fan! And as such, inspiration always strikes again, which is obvious, because here I am, writing a fic! But this fic was inspired by more than the charming characters and setting of Rune Factory. You see, I first began lurking in fandom… I suppose in 2000 and 2001, when I was 12 and 13. Fanfic culture was somewhat different then. There were more long multi-chapter fics, for one thing. And I do love oneshots, but I also sometimes miss how things were back then. So consider this my love-letter to the sprawling fic I grew up with. It will not be as long as some of the fics I used to read (I have it outlined at seven chapters, not counting the preamble and epilogue), but I'm striving to capture the storytelling and dramatic feel that I loved about so many fics from that era.

Oh, so you wanted to know about the fic itself? Well. You see, I've always liked Russell and Sabrina as a pairing. I do not know why, but something about them works. Also, many people have complained about Cecilia in RF2, and how she didn't stay with Nicholas. Now, put those two things together, and it starts to make sense, doesn't it! I'm not saying it's the most canonically likely reason, but it's certainly a plausible one, or at least I think so. So, what can you expect from this fic? Lots of very conflicted CeciliaxNicholas, lots of RussellxSabrina as well, drama, sweetness, and TEEN ANGST. To clarify some things: Cecilia and Nicholas are around 13-14 in this fic, and RFF is treated as canon, so some characters HAVE moved away, and I'm interested in writing a bit about that as well.

**Warnings:** Russell has been through… Unpleasant things. There IS mention of step-sibling incest, but it is in the context of two characters experiencing puppy love and then finding out that their parents are marrying, so I'm not sure if it counts.

**Obligatory Disclaimer:** I do not own Rune Factory, though this would be a fun storyline event, wouldn't it? ;)

**Preamble: That Heavy Dark Something**

All stories begin long before they seem to, and this one, the story of a young elven girl and what happened that summer, is no exception. At very earliest, it can be said to have begun on a battlefield, in dirty tents, in field hospitals. In the beginning, it was the story of a bright, quiet young man and his terrible nightmares, though it soon grew to encompass several others. For our stories are never truly our own, at least not for very long.

* * *

Within his unit, Russell wasn't exactly unpopular. Invisible might be a more proper word for it. He had little to say to anyone else, and not much interest in the noisy, somewhat desperately escapist displays of bravado that his peers took part in while not engaged in active combat. In the beginning, they asked him to join in from time to time, but he always responded with a shake of the head, a wistful glance in to the distance, and, in time, he seemed to fade from their consciousness. If asked, and given a gentle prompt, a reminder that such a person existed among them, they could usually correctly identify him, but it didn't really go further than that. He was known for not saying much, always bringing a book with him to the mess tent, and being, even Russell himself would admit, somewhat sickly and accident prone. His superiors, and a few of the more astute among his ranks, would note that he was an excellent archer and promising strategist.

Not that this mattered all that much to him. From the outset, Russell's only concern was emerging on the other side, relatively intact if possible. While a few young men had a good laugh over his having fallen face first in to a damp trench, Russell sat up, covered in freezing mud, and tried to daydream about something other than impending death. He thought of a story he'd been reading the night before, about an explorer scrabbling through a deep, winding cave, filled with lava and poison and monsters, all so he could face down the mighty dragon in a gamble for the safety of his village. Russell thought of this young man, clambering around in the dark, his small, flimsy human form squared off against an ancient being of scale and muscle and hot breath. _That_, he thought, _is the kind of warrior I wouldn't mind being._ Fighting of his own free will, with nothing but darkness and monsters to contend with. It didn't matter that he wasn't exactly what most people would call courageous or physically blessed, It would be easy, he assumed, because it wasn't _this_. No crouching in the mud, no arrows constantly whizzing past his head, no dark, smelly field hospitals, no sitting around with his rain-soaked clothes and hair clinging to his frozen body. And he wasn't sure, but he felt he had reason to believe that it wouldn't come with this terrible, terrible sadness.

As much as he tried to let things drift by, tried to treat what his life had become as some sort of far-away, passing dream, Russell was, indeed, terribly sad. He tried to hold it back, tried to scrape it back down in to what he imagined as a dark, decayed hole in the center of his being, but he soon found that this wasn't always possible. There was undeniably something new inside of him, something aching and dark. He didn't feel it all the time, but it always made itself known some way or another, often at night. He'd lie in his tent, on the hard ground, and suddenly feel the weight of this thing, whatever it was. It was terribly heavy, and now and then, he'd spend whole days trying to break free of it, keep it from dragging him down, a task he would soon find futile. All he could do was make sure it stayed as small as possible, coexist with it, and, above all else, ignore it, which proved a problem in itself. All of this denial made him feel hollow, like there was a yawning pit in the center of his chest. In which, coincidentally, the aching, heavy darkness fit perfectly. Corroding the edges, widening the hollow. By then, he'd given up. He barely felt like a real person anymore, which was just fine by him, because the things he was living and doing weren't fit for real people. Finally, he was able to drift through, like nothing could hurt him. Then the dreams started.

They were easy to shake off at first. After all, a few bad dreams were just part of life, and it wasn't like he didn't have real problems. But before long, they took over everything, to the point where he had to start making critical decisions. _Would trying to function be harder on no sleep, or after the terrible nightly onslaught?_ This, of course, meant nothing in the end, because before long, Russell was terrified of sleeping. And fighting, and talking, and the opposition, and the rest of his unit, and nearly everything else. Maybe the real fear, the dark, tangled roots of countless others, was that the empty darkness inside of him would soon take over, completely and forever. This had occurred to him, of course, but he didn't think much of it. He was just biding his time, patiently waiting for whatever was going to happen to him to happen, so he could finally hurry up and die and be done with all of this. Bleeding and killing and hiding and waking up terrified if he even slept at all and reading the same paragraph over and over again. Russell had finally lost the thing most dear to him: his ability to lose himself in books. Stories didn't grab him, facts didn't take, words became meaningless scratches. His late-night hobby of cataloging feathers and plants from the different camps had long fallen by the wayside. This, he figured, was the end. All he had left to do was wait for the day that he'd make a careless mistake, or give out from exhaustion, or finally take matters in to his own hands and overdose on something or other.

And he realized that, suddenly, people were starting to take notice of him again. But this time, it wasn't for his inordinate bookishness, his trudging off to the medic again, his few areas of improbable skill. Now it was the screams in the night, the strange lack of focus, the endless dark nothing behind the eyes, the silence and the lashing out. Russell, everyone had sadly and correctly figured, was probably losing his mind, and something would surely be done about it before long. Several of them were already long-gone, declared unfit for combat and sent out in to the world, broken and unsteady. Russell was, they assumed, just the next in line. Russell himself had no assumptions either way about this, being set on dying one way or another, but that didn't change the course of things: having seen it a number of times before, the lost boys of the unit were correct. Russell himself was not told about this. Rather, he had to overhear it.

"Just finish his treatment, get him back on his feet, and send him off. The kid's done."

"Right. I was just going to say the same thing."

"It's a shame, really. He has a good head on his shoulders, and a hell of an aim. But you know how it is. Some of them just go crazy after a while."

Russell took note of the fact that the medic and the squad leader were talking like he wasn't there. In a sense, he wasn't. He'd been having a particularly bad week. Almost no sleep, a tiny flutter of a nightmare every time he kept his eyes closed for longer than a blink, a few too-close calls. He was no longer sure whether he was drifting in and out of reality or intentionally leaving himself open to attack. In truth, both were likely at play. Increasingly, Russell found himself slipping backward in to warm, sun-drenched memories, so deep yet so airy and unreal that he questioned whether or not they could have happened. Had the sun shining through the leaves of the trees in his hometown really created such a deep green glow as he ran down a sun-dappled path and in to the forest. Did the gold embossing on the books on the shelves of his father's study, and the gold rims of his father's glasses, really catch and reflect the yellow sun so richly? Could those mornings and sunsets really have been so hazy and mystical and green and gold? Could so many flowers really bloom at once? Were the wooden floors of the library so lustrous? Was water ever that shining, cool stuff of his memories? Could he ever really have felt so wistful and excited and fascinated and utterly safe?

Whether it was ever real or not, he welcomed the fantasy, only surfacing occasionally to check if he was finally dead. And each time, he found himself back in the cold, grimy, bloody, eternally sleepless present, the terrible world he found himself in between basking in his sunny half-familiar fantasies and, he hoped, being pulled down by the current of an aqueous, cool, restful darkness. And eventually, he was sure he felt that darkness claiming him at last, finally able to lie down, finally finished. He saw stars, and then darkness at the edges of his vision, felt his legs buckle. Someone was running towards him and shouting something, possibly his name, but he couldn't hear so well anymore. His ears were ringing, and he was thinking about the shining golden study and the shining golden paths and the freezing slippery trenches. The voice echoed through his head, and the wet ground was so cold under his cheek. And then all was dark. _Finally_.

* * *

Russell was almost disappointed to find that it was not quite so final after all. He woke only a few hours later on a scratchy infirmary mattress. His head felt hollow yet somehow heavy, and breathing was harder than he remembered it being. A medic soon realized that he was awake, and came to stand over his bed.

"How are you feeling?"

He certainly wasn't well, but he didn't really remember how he was supposed to feel anymore, so he couldn't think of anything to say. He figured it wasn't important, because the medic moved ahead in the conversation regardless.

"…Well. Whether you feel it or not, you're not doing so well. Looks like you have a chest infection. We'll do what we can to clean out your lungs and hope for the best."

Russell nodded slightly, and turned to face the wall. He didn't really care about where he was or what was wrong or what they were doing to fix it. He didn't really care about anything, besides getting back to sleep, and possibly the idea that lying on a cot and feeling feverish and short of breath for however long would at least keep him out of the action for a while. Or, of course, the dying and all that. Maybe this was the _something_ that he had been waiting on.

So when he overheard that he might get to escape after all, Russell wasn't quite sure how to react. For too long, he'd only known of two possible futures: fighting and running and empty inside, or nothing at all; dead. Learning that he might be returned to normal life only served to remind him that he no longer knew how to be a person as such. Indeed, he found that where there had once been the various constituents of who he was, -his curiosity, his preference for quiet, his occasional but deliciously sharp pangs of loneliness- he now found little to speak of. A blank hollow, utterly still but for cold, heavy breaths of despair. As his body began to mend, the idea of discharge seemed ever more real, and Russell began to wonder what in the world he would do with himself now. Surely, he couldn't really return, could he? Could someone so hollow and, at times, so unpredictable, so fearful, really return to peaceful civilian life? Could his inner life ever pick up where it had left off? He supposed these thoughts should give him hope, that he should be grateful for being handed the release he had longed for without the finality of death. Instead, he found himself, as always, terribly frightened of whatever would come next.

Eventually, he recovered enough to start taking short walks around the encampment. Or at least by his own measure. Russell knew well that he was supposed to spend a least a few more days resting, but the two weeks of bed rest had left him with an insatiable hunger for life and movement. So, after everyone else was asleep, he'd quietly slip out of bed and spend an hour or two shuffling around, pacing at the boundaries of the camp, in circles that seemed to widen every night. It occurred to him that he might be making himself a target, but by the time he realized this, it was already something he needed, a nightly ritual as natural as breathing. He tried to focus on the cold wind on his face, on the damp, heavy smell of the earth under his feet, but something, of course, was always off. The scent was corrupted by distant blood and smoke and gunpowder, a scent of terrible familiarity. _My god, what have I done?_ This was a question he had asked himself all too many times, but it had never quite broken through to the center like this. Because it really was a terrible smell, a smell of countless lives ending, a smell he had, to his horror, learned to produce all too carelessly. That was when he finally decided that he really had gone too far. He knew the terrible truth, that killing was easy and dying was easier and that being dead might not be as awful as everyone seemed to think. He decided that he could never go back. Not to his old world… And not to the war.

It occurred to him that just turning around and walking away might not have been the best choice. He still had a cough, still got tired easily, but it didn't seem to be setting him back, and he didn't feel signs of relapse. So he decided to press on, out in to the darkness, towards the light on the rim of the sky and a terribly uncertain future. In a way, Russell liked not knowing what was going to happen to him. For the first time in over a year, he felt the familiar stirrings of his old curiosity. Maybe he could remake himself after all. Whoever he was to become now would, he was sure, be in many ways an entirely new creature, but he was sure for the first time that the new would be built on the bones of the old. Whoever that might have been.

As the sun crept up, above the hills and under a thick pall of clouds, Russell came upon a small village, its crumbling stone walls and charred straw roofs dark and forbidding against the lightening grey of the sky. As the shadows faded, Russell finally found the source of the terrible smell. Bodies, at least a dozen of them. Some run through with arrows, some with great stains of dried blood surrounding vicious stab wounds, some dry and blackened, too slow to flee their burning homes. Russell remembered drawing back on bowstrings, brandishing swords, setting fires. In the heat of battle, it had seemed like survival, or, heaven forbid, a job. But here and now, so still in the morning light, he saw it for what it really was. These were people, and something horrible had been done to them. In that instant, eyes glassy, heart racing, he knew where the terrible black hollowness in his chest had come from. _This,_ he thought, _is the very meaning of cruelty_. To kill, and to be forced to kill against one's own better judgment. Russell found himself unable to move, and stood, perfectly still, in one spot, for several minutes, until he was stunned by a small sound.

At first, he assumed it was a bird, and honestly, that alone would have been enough to shake him out of his moribund, empty little reverie. Russell was aching to see something alive, and, in absence of a human companion, a bird would certainly do. But this, he realized, couldn't be the call of a bird. It was the call of something small, frightened, and human. Or something like it. Because when he finally managed to locate the sound, he saw that it came from a small child, with pale orange hair and pointed ears, screaming her heart out in a dark alley.

"Hey! Um… Little kid… There…"

She stopped in her tracks and fell silent in an instant, looking back at Russell with a look of utter terror. He realize that his uniform and raised voice must have frightened her.

"Hey… I'm not going to hurt you… C'mere…"

The small girl looked down at her feet, and then warily toddled over to him. Russell smiled, bent down, and lifted her over his right shoulder.

"There. See? All safe now. What's your name?'

As soon as the question left his lips, he wondered if there had been any point in asking. Russell was somewhat inexperienced with children, and wasn't sure whether or not this one was old enough to speak. Apparently she was, barely, because after a brief pause, she replied.

"Ce… Cilia. Ceci!"

"Alright, Ceci. Do you want to come with me? It's dangerous for you here…"

He felt her arms gently tighten around his neck, and, with a slight smile, began the walk out of the village, glad for whatever distraction and companionship traveling with a child could offer. But, as he walked past the house, he saw something that made his blood run cold: The charred body of a woman, with singed locks of pale orange hair. Wincing, he cradled the child's head, guiding it in to the collar of his coat.

"Ceci… Don't look. It's okay."

He had never felt like such a liar.

* * *

When Russell finally reached civilization, he had little choice but to fall in to the uncomfortable position of a beggar. He was surprised, and a little sad, to find that it fit him rather well. With his bony frame, matted hair, cracked and scuffed glasses, constant wet cough, and a child always squirming in his lap, he certainly looked the part. Most of his money went to food for Cecilia, and, if he was lucky, himself, but he was saving some of it, with plans to buy a ticket and ride a boat across the water, where he had heard that there were larger towns with more opportunities. He wasn't sure she really understood, but he liked telling his young charge about his plans.

"…And when we have enough money, we'll get on a big ship, and we'll float across the water, Ceci."

He leaned further back in to the straw. A kindly farmer had allowed them to sleep in his barn that night. Ceci, as she had taken to doing, buried her face in to the warmth under Russell's coat.

"…And you know what we're going to do? We're going to get a home of our own! And it's peaceful over there, Ceci. No more wars for us!"

He hoped in his heart that this was true, and, with that, turned on his side to sleep, and let out a weary cough. He hadn't been feeling well that day, and thought to himself, _so much for not relapsing_, before falling in to a black-velvet sleep, spangled with eerie fever dreams.

Finally, the day came when Russell sat counting his coins, and found that he finally had enough to depart. He could barely contain his excitement. He shook the bag of coins in front of Ceci's face.

"Jingle, jingle, Ceci! We can take the boat now!"

Still beaming, he stood up, coughed, gathered Cecilia in to his arms, and headed to the dock.

Russell hadn't been on a boat before, and was surprised by how he felt the motion of the water in his body. He hadn't been feeling particularly good before he boarded, and the rocking of the vessel had only made him worse. He felt dizzy and confused. Cecilia, on the other hand, seemed to take to it well, constantly standing on tip-toe on the hard cot, trying to peep out of the porthole, showing the sort of curious spirit that Russell admired. He decided to oblige her, in part because some air might do him good.

"It's kind of cramped in here, right? Let's go out on the deck."

The cool salt air felt wonderful on his burning face, but it didn't do much for the uncomfortable listing of his body. What's more, Cecilia seemed somewhat frightened of the dark water, now that she could see that it surrounded them on all sides.

"It's okay, Ceci. Look, the water's pretty, and I won't let you fall in, and… Please don't cry."

Her fussing and squalling was making his head ache, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Russell opened his eyes, turned away from the water. Someone was talking to him.

"Yeah. I'm fine… I've just been a little sick lately."

"You do know this ship has a doctor, right?"

"I… No I didn't. Thanks."

"More than welcome. I'll walk you down the sick bay."

Russell nodded, and followed the stranger back in to the cabin.

The doctor was a severe but soft-spoken woman who wore a blue stone on a long golden chain around her neck. The stone fascinated Cecilia, who kept trying to grab it, hoping to get a good look. Russell was somewhat worried that she was annoying the doctor, who might end up getting frustrated and refusing to see him.

"Ceci, don't… I don't feel good and this nice lady is trying to find out what's wrong and fix it."

The doctor actually seemed somewhat amused by this stone-grabbing business, and it didn't seem to be getting in the way as she examined the back of Russell's throat before moving on to intently listening to his lungs.

"It's really alright. Curious little thing, isn't she? Are you her father?"

Russell had to think about this for a moment. It occurred to him that, indeed, he was.

"Yes."

"Well, then. Take good care of her, now. Anyway, back to business… Seems like you have an infection. We have some medicine to clear it up, so it looks like you'll be just fine."

Russell was stunned by her confidence. Back at the field hospital, they had basically said that they'd try, but there wasn't much to be done. For the first time, he felt like he really was headed for a better life.

"I'll… Really be alright?"

"I assume so… Just get some rest. And when you wake up, let me know if you want a book or something to pass the time."

Russell remembered that he _always_ wanted a book. He hadn't been so happy since before he went off to war, and fell asleep with a smile.

Russell spent most of the voyage in the sick bay, and most of the time he spent in the sick bay, he spent with a book. He read histories, he read stories, he read tomes on the magics and sciences, he read fairy tales to Ceci, who looked up intently from the floor by the bed. Eventually, the doctor ran out of books to give him, and several passengers, having gotten word of the young man in the sick bay who read constantly, lent their own books to him. Russell had almost forgotten how deeply satisfying reading had been for him. When Cecilia felt like she wasn't getting enough attention, she'd grab the spine of her new father's book and pull down on it, looking him square in the face. Russell found this new habit endearing, even if it did take him out of his book for a few moments.

"Ceci, your daddy _loves_ reading, doesn't he? He always has, ever since he was almost as little as you. But when he was in the war, he hardly got to read any books at all. Hard times, eh, Ceci?"

Cecilia thought about this, but didn't yet have the words for a proper reply.

"…Book!"

"Yes! And it's a good book! We're going to have to thank the nice lady who let me borrow it. And you know what I want to do when we find a place to live? I want to turn it in to a library. That way, I'll always have lots of books around, and other people who love books can borrow them, kind of like what I've been doing now."

That, of course, being Russell's favorite daydream of the moment.

After several days of this, rest and books and taking his medicine, Russell was given a clean bill of health, and was glad to be able to wander the deck as he pleased, enjoying the crisp sea air. On the final day, he stood near the bow of the ship, leaning on the railing and watching the strip of green on the horizon growing ever larger. He was excited, but he couldn't say for what, not being sure of what would be waiting for him on the shore. He noticed a woman who was also intently watching the green, growing ribbon, and decided to try asking her.

"Um… Hello there. Do you know what it's like where we're going?"

The woman thought for a moment.

"If you mean the port town… Well, there really isn't much. But Kardia is just a few miles down the path, and I think I've heard that they have an inn and a few vacant buildings, if you're asking about places to live."

"I guess I was. That helps a lot, thank… Ceci, looking at the water is fine, but you look like you're going to fall in and daddy doesn't want to have to jump in after you!"

The woman laughed.

"She's yours, eh?"

"Yes."

Cecilia looked back at Russell, who smiled at him. The woman couldn't help but be charmed by this sweet, if slightly mismatched pair.

"I was wondering! I mean, I didn't know why else you'd be traveling together, it's just that… Well… You don't really, you know… Look alike…"

The woman lightly flicked the rim of her ear. Russell sometimes forgot about the obvious difference between himself and Cecilia, whose sunset-orange hair was pulled behind her pointed ears.

"Ah, yes... She's adopted."

"Well, good for you, then! She's lovely. You two have a good day now!"

"I think we will."

He gave a nod, and the woman vanished in to the cabin. Alone with his daughter again, Russell turned back towards the water, eyes on the green patch of land once more, the warming sun and cooling sea spray on his face. Onward, to the bright future that lay before him.


	2. Chapter 1: First Blush

**Chapter 1: First Blush**

Cecilia had been a happy child. And though she now would not consider herself a child, and, indeed, somewhat resented the fact that some others still seemed to, she supposed she was still happy, for the most part. Sure, she found that, in the last two-odd years, she had grown a little lonesome, a little unsure, but she couldn't really call that unhappiness, could she? She didn't really think she could, though it did bother her on occasion. Once, about a year ago, she asked her father if he ever felt like he didn't really fit in. She remembered how he sighed deeply, looked up from his book for a moment. _That's just part of growing up, Ceci._ Having received that answer, Cecilia wished she'd had the good sense to keep her feelings to herself. Later that evening, sitting on her bed, she wondered why it had made her so angry at him. She knew her father meant well, but something about it made her feel like he hadn't heard her at all.

It was _not_ she reasoned, rather haughtily, just part of growing up! It was that everyone was leaving. Mist was the first to go, then Rosetta from the general store, and then Bianca, taking Tabatha with her. _That_ was it. Tabatha was gone, and now Cecilia was the _only_ one of her kind in this entire sad little _town_! Ever since she learned the truth behind her funny ears, her urge for wild places, her thinking somewhat differently from everyone else, being close to Tabatha had become terribly important to her. Two elves in the town were special, were different, were in it together. One elf in the town, she figured, was just _alone_. Her father just didn't know what he was talking about, she assumed. He was a human, who had grown up with humans, and now lived in a town full of humans. _Humans, humans, humans._ So he didn't have any right to tell her why she felt the way she did. In truth, of course, Russell knew all about feeling like he didn't belong. He was a bookish man in a farming community, a man who had did terrible things living side-by-side with his mostly peaceful neighbors in this gentle town. For him, growing up wasn't the half of it. Indeed, he identified strongly with his pointy-eared misfit daughter, who might never really feel like she belonged here. He often didn't feel like he did, at any rate. But he had wanted to give her some hope.

Fortunately, Cecilia was a busy girl by nature, so she didn't often have time to sit around feeling sorry for herself. How terribly, terribly boring! Why just sit around wallowing when you could go in to a cave and collect stones. Cecilia had loved stones since she was small, and had amassed a rather impressive collection of sparkling blue aquamarines. She wanted to make some of them in to a necklace, and was, at the moment, seated on the porch of the library, skirt pulled tight across her knees, serving as a makeshift table on which to line up the sparkling blue jewels in to rows, trying to find the most pleasing arrangement, and wondering how she would make the holes to string them. Perhaps Leo, the old blacksmith, had some sort of tool. She would have to ask him sometime. Satisfied with her new plan, Cecilia gathered the jewels in to her hand, and was about to put them back in her pocket, when something startled her.

"Hey!"

Cecilia jumped, scattering her handful of gems on the cobblestones. It was only Nicholas, who bent down to pick up a few of the strewn treasures. Cecilia knelt next to him, and the pair worked at gathering them up.

"…You scared me!"

"Sorry… I just didn't know you were so hard at work!"

Cecilia collected herself, smoothing out her skirt and gathering her hair back in to place.

"I wasn't really working… I was just trying to figure out how to make a necklace…"

Though his sudden appearance had startled her, Cecilia was always happy to see Nicholas, and this was no exception. The two of them had been inseparable for as long as they could remember, and Cecilia liked to think that, even if there had been a hundred other children in town to choose from, the two of them still would have become best friends. Nicholas was mischievous, which, to Cecilia, meant that he always wanted to do something interesting. She supposed that she might be just a bit mischievous herself. Her father often seemed to think so, at least. And not only was he fun, but he was also growing in to quite a beautiful young man. In Cecilia's opinion, at least. Over the last year or so, he had grown suddenly tall, and seemed to be experimenting with letting his wavy, blue-black hair grow a little longer. The sun had, over the years, darkened his skin to a warm, powdery tan color, much like his mother's. His deep, lively eyes were a rich brown, shot through with sparks of gold and amber. Cecilia entertained the notion that, aside from the ears, he might look just a little bit elven. To her, he even looked lovely when he was streaked with dirt and had leaves tangled in his hair, as often happened on their adventures together.

"There! All of your stones are together again!"

Nicholas placed the jewels he had gathered in to Cecilia's cupped palms, where they clattered against the few that she had picked up herself. She wordlessly slipped them in to her pocket, then spoke.

"So, what do you want to do today?"

"I don't know, walk around?"

"Walk around _where_?"

"I dunno."

Cecilia was starting to get frustrated. Though Nicholas was very dear to her, some aspects of his personality had begun to get on her nerves in the past year. He was unfocused, and he couldn't seem to take anything seriously. Cecilia was still sprightly, and, indeed, mischievous, but as she got older, being serious had started to hold an appeal for her. Tabatha, and, when she thought about it, most of the adult women she found most beautiful and most longed to be like, always had a seriousness about them. But seriousness didn't really come naturally to her yet. Just the day before, she had been fooling around with Nicholas and leapt on to him from the branches of a tall tree, pretending to be a dragon. She opted to rationalize this foolishness by reminding herself that dragons were very regal, very _serious_ creatures.

"Well, what sounds like fun to you? Um… Cave or Mansion?"

The de Sainte-Coquille mansion had stood abandoned for years, and shortly after Jasper moved out, Cecilia was delighted to find that the windows weren't locked. She loved the mansion, loved pretending that her and Nicholas had a home of their own. In a way, she supposed they did. And recently, she had begun to love going there by herself, loved the echoes, loved the emptiness, the silence. She was happy that she always had a place to go when she found her father's fumbling good-naturedness overbearing and needed to be alone for a while. And of course, going with Nicholas was fun, too. They could run down the carpeted hallways, bounce their voices off the vaulted ceilings, slide down the banisters. All very undignified and childish. Admittedly, that was part of the fun. Even though she now supposed that she was very nearly grown-up, Cecilia didn't really mind being a child. It was a very safe time. Nicholas was still thinking, but before long, he made his decision.

"Uh… Mansion!"

Cecilia had been hoping he would say that. Nicholas grabbed her hand, pulling her from the porch. The pair set off, down the street and up the steps.

* * *

Russell and Sabrina were very different from one another. They were both aware of this, and they liked thinking that this was why they seemed to suit each other so well. And they found that they ended up being somewhat alike, after all. Sabrina could be introspective, Russell could be easygoing and spontaneous. They had originally gotten to know one another because Russell had needed a bit of assistance after moving to Kardia, but they soon found that they genuinely enjoyed each other's company. For one thing, they made lovely drinking buddies. They had grown to love going to the pub together, leaning forward on the bar, laughing the kind of laugh known only by adults, a riotous, wanton sort of laugh, the laugh of people who felt as though they were on the lam from their oppressive day-to-day lives. Russell would drink very quickly, eager for warmth and calm, for perhaps and hour of uncomplicated happiness. Sabrina found this entertaining, and would cheer him on, _that's my little two-fister; ooh, is that a new record; wow, for a bookworm, you can really throw down_. Russell would gulp more quickly, eager to show off; Sabrina would clap and, quietly, in the back of her mind, wonder if this was something she should be encouraging. But it was all, they figured, in good fun. And in time, Russell allowed her to see the sides of himself that he normally kept hidden. Sabrina got the impression that, on the inside, Russell was nothing more than a wounded child. This did not bother her one bit.

Eventually, the two of them came to care quite a great deal for one another, felt a pull in their bodies in the dark and after one drink too many. Having both taken a few heavy blows in their lives, the two of them didn't see the point in denying themselves the chance to take their fun when and where they could. And if fun was to be had with one another, that would do just fine. It was nothing serious, of course. A kiss in the darkened bar, wine on the deck of the Spearfish Shack, impulsively following one another home to the beach house or the library to spend a sleepless night touching one another in tender places. They had fun together, after all. But soon enough, they knew, in spite of themselves, that it _was_ serious. Serious as war, serious as broken homes, serious as the conversations they couldn't help but falling in to in the dark, when the release was over and the two of them lay, pleasantly empty. Serious, they realized, could be fun.

So it came to pass that, one beautiful day in early summer, Sabrina decided to have a very serious conversation.

"Russell…"

"…Hrm?"

Russell had been staring lazily in to the distance, watching the water and contemplating lying down for a little nap in the sand. He loved it when Sabrina whisked him from the library and took him to the beach. He found the smell and feel of the sea air and the sound of the waves incredibly soothing. Mentally putting the nap off for a few more minutes, he waited for her to finish what she was saying.

"It's just that… We seem to enjoy each other's company, don't we?"

"…You're an observant woman, Sabrina."

She smiled.

"You see, that's the kind of thing I'm talking about. You've got to be the driest man I've ever met, and I love that about you. And well… I really love everything else, too, you know that?"

Sabrina leaned to rest her head on his shoulder. Russell smiled.

"And I'm rather fond of you, too."

There was a long pause. Russell had figured the conversation was over, until Sabrina piped up again.

"…Russell, I want to marry you."

The playfulness had left her voice. Sabrina normally spoke in a low, breathy, almost sensuously gentle tone. But the way she spoke that line was different, weighty and direct. Russell was somewhat stunned, and wasn't sure how to respond.

"I… You… Like, honestly?"

"It's not really something to lie about…"

"I know, it's just… What brought that up?"

Sabrina sighed, and dropped her head in to Russell's lap. The two of them listened to the waves for a few moments. For two people who had been suddenly dropped in to a serious discussion, they were strangely content.

"Just that I like you a lot, you know?"

"I know… I mean, I always assumed so, I guess. But didn't you always say that we were just having fun?"

"Russell, we've been 'having fun' for over half a decade. I think it's time to be honest with ourselves here. And come on, don't you want to have fun with me for the rest of your life?"

Sabrina whipped up in to a sitting position and lightly punched him in the arm. Russell cupped the now slightly sore spot with his hand, shooting her a playful mock-warning look before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"…Not if you keep hitting me."

Sabrina lightly tapped her fist against Russell's arm one more time for good measure, and then softened, putting an arm around his shoulders and drawing him closer.

"In all seriousness, though… Neither of us are getting any younger, and life has put us both through the ringer, hasn't it? Don't you think it's time to just go with it and be happy?"

Russell had, for a long time, assumed that he _was_ happy. He had a child, a library, a lover, enough to pretend that things were almost normal. He had his setbacks and sleepless nights, but up until now, he had assumed that things were as good as they were going to get. Upon reflection, he realized that he _did_ want what she was suggesting, terribly so. Going home to separate houses was almost like torture some nights, and he often found himself lying awake, longing for Sabrina's gentle presence, her sunny and stormy aura that could dispel nightmares. And as much as he enjoyed the idea that they were keeping it light, just having fun, just passing the time with one another, he had begun to realize that this flighty relationship was only contributing to the detached, uprooted feeling that seemed to underline his post-war life. Russell wanted something that was solid and built to last.

"Sabrina… I want to say it sounds nice. I really do. Because it does. But do you think it's a good idea?"

"I'm the one that brought it up, aren't I?"

"…Good point. I just want to be sure that we're not making a mistake."

"Russell, it's not like this is the worst mistake that two people can make."

"You've got me there."

He allowed himself to slide downward, head resting on her lap. They often found themselves swapping positions like this. Sabrina pushed a lock of hair away from his face.

"…So, you're in for this?"

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

"Is that a yes?"

Russell smiled.

"Of course. I guess we're going to have to tell the kids."

Sabrina sighed, and looked back up at the ocean.

"In a while…"

The two of them settled in to watch the waves.

* * *

Nicholas walked at a brisk pace, playfully waving a long, flexible stick that he had found along the side of the road. Cecilia calmly walked behind him, hands buried in the pockets of her dress, gently fidgeting with the aquamarines and seemingly deep in thought. He remembered that she used to run ahead of him, cheerfully yelling at him to keep up with her, climbing trees and scaling fences. Nicholas had been noticing a change in her over the last several years. She had become quieter, and more adverse to getting dirty. Her movements had gone from lively and boisterous to strangely, self-consciously poised. She was less fun, in a way, but that didn't really bother him, because she was still Ceci, still his best friend. And as her appeal as a companion for exploring in caves and jumping in mud puddles decreased, another, more mysterious appeal, began to grow in its place. Her body had grown long and narrow, then rounded and graceful. Her hair had grown down past her shoulders, and she had taken to wearing it down, allowing the silky strands to fly free in the breeze, the sun scattering the soft orange color in to delicate hues of pink and gold, until it was tamed by a worried hand and carefully slipped behind a pale, pointed ear. Even the contrived almost-elegance of her movements seemed compelling to him. He thought Cecilia was beautiful. And besides, when she stopped keeping watch on herself for a moment, she still liked climbing trees and trudging through shallow streams.

The pair reached the mansion, climbed in to the window. Cecilia had been there countless times since it was vacated, but seeing the inside was somehow still thrilling to her, especially since she'd opened the master bedroom window the previous summer and forgotten to close it. The room was now crawling with vines, and the marble floors were littered with dead leaves that had been brought in by the wind. Once inside, Cecilia wanted to take in the beauty of the place, quietly admiring the golden sun streaming through the windows, cutting through the grey gloom of the interior. Nicholas, on the other hand, was wanting to bounce his voice off the ceiling.

"I LOVE CECILIA!"

Cecilia felt suddenly bashful, her cheeks burning red as the last two syllables of her name lingered in the air, "Ilia… Ilia… Ilia…" until they finally faded, having delivered their message. Nicholas took notice of her sudden silence.

"What… You didn't know that I love you?"

He smiled playfully. Cecilia clutched at her skirt, cast her eyes downward and to the side.

"Ah, no, it's just… It was so loud, and…"

"Well, it should be loud! Because I _love_ you, Ceci! Remember? I love you, and I wanna marry you some day! I promised you when we were little, remember?"

Cecilia, of course, remembered. But back then, it had just been an innocent, slightly embarrassing childhood game, or perhaps an astute observation of their limited options. But now, years later, with their taller bodies and burgeoning ideas of what love and marriage really were, it seemed different, made her feel shy. But she didn't want to dampen his enthusiasm, and, admittedly, liked the idea of him loving her, of marrying him one day. Still blushing, she called up a smile.

"Of course I do! It's just a shock to hear it so loudly is all…"

Nicholas cupped his hands next to his mouth, and turned to the ceiling once again.

"I LIKE BEING LOUD!"

_Oud… Oud… Oud…_ Cecilia laughed. Nicholas clattered his stick along the rungs of the banister. A silence had suddenly fallen between them, each quietly wondering what exactly they were going to _do_ in here.

"Hey Ceci, wanna check out the Vine Room?"

The Vine Room was their name for the overgrown master bedroom, and it was one of Cecilia's favorite places in the world. She nodded, and the two of them took off up the stairs, with Cecilia running in spite of herself.

There wasn't much to do in the vine room, either, but it was the sort of place where one went for the scenery. Cecilia loved the way the sun spilled through the window, illuminating the green leaves from behind. Nicholas liked breaking off a few lengths of vine and sitting on the floor to braid them. They sat side by side in the warm puddle of sun in the middle of the floor, saying nothing, lost in their own thoughts, until Nicholas suddenly stopped braiding his vines, tied the ends of the braid together to form a hoop, and placed it on Cecilia's head.

"You're Queen of the Elves!"

Cecilia didn't think she was much of a queen, but something about this gesture enchanted her. She liked the idea that the Queen of the Elves let her throne room become overgrown with vines, wore a crown of ivy. Flush with the recklessness of youth and good cheer, and grateful for her coronation, she leaned over to give Nicholas a peck on the cheek. He drew back, smiling warmly, and they sat looking in to one another's eyes for a bit. Cecilia realized that their faces were drawing closer together. She hoped with all her heart that she was right about what was going to happen next, wondered if there was dirt on her clothes, if her hair was a mess, if she was pretty enough. She wondered if she should be the one to make it happen, but since she wasn't sure that she was correct, she didn't want to make a fool of herself. Luckily, she didn't have to wonder for long, because in the blink of an eye, Nicholas had leaned forward, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips.

Cecilia was happily stunned, as though she had fallen in to a wonderful dream. His lips were so soft against hers, his hand so warm as it brushed her cheek, her heart leaping excitedly as she realized that this was her real first kiss. Up until then, she had _thought_ that her first kiss had been three years ago, on the day the beaches opened. She had been wading in the ocean, delighting in the warm sun and the lapping of waves around her small body, when suddenly Nicholas ran up to her, splashing was he went, handed her one of the most beautiful spiraling seashells she had ever seen, and gave her a light peck on the cheek. This was a surprise, and a very pleasant one, but she didn't really feel anything besides startled and happy. The seashell went in to her treasure box, and she decided that from that day on, it would be the best thing she had ever put there. But this time? It was as though Nicholas had drawn up a part of her soul, one that had been sleeping since she was born. She willed herself back to reality, wrapped Nicholas in a big hug, and tousled his hair. She had touched his hair many times before, but she had never remembered it being this wonderful before. It was soft and smelled like the sea. Thankful that this moment had happened, they spent the next hour sitting in the fading, reddening sunbeam, enjoying one another's company, and saying nothing, until Nicholas announced that he had to go home. Cecilia waited until she was sure he was down the street, well out of earshot, and then burst back in to the main room.

"I LOVE NICHOLAS!" His name lingered in the air, just as she was sure she felt the impression of his lips lingering on hers.

* * *

Cecilia wandered home in a blur of joy. She loved Nicholas. She wanted to marry him. Once more, she felt like an innocent child, like back when they gave each other stones and flowers and promised to marry, wanting this thing so badly even though they knew little about it, other than that it would be forever and be with each other. She savored the weight of the ivy crown, of its rustle against her hair. She wanted to wear it forever, and if anyone asked why, she would just tell them that she was Queen of the Elves and smile. But not really, of course, for she knew that would be seen as foolish, and foolishness was something to be left in childhood. Then again, she had also heard that people were fools in love, and in that moment, she certainly felt as though she were head-over-heels in love, so she figured that she'd allow herself a desire to be foolish. Happily fiddling with the aquamarines in her pocket, she approached the library doorstep, and merrily swished inside.

Something was wrong. Her father was sitting behind the counter, as always, and Nicholas' mother was with him. That in itself wasn't unusual, because they did spend a lot of time together, and seemed to like each other quite a bit. The problem was that they seemed to have been waiting for her. A flurry of panicked thoughts rushed through her mind at once. Did they somehow find out about the magical moment in the Vine Room? That must have been it! Nicholas couldn't keep his big mouth closed, and now she was going to have to listen to a speech about how they were too young for all of this nonsense, that they should leave it for when they were older, that there was plenty of time, no rush, and that they didn't want her to do anything she might regret. Cecilia decided, rather defiantly, that there certainly _wasn't_ plenty of time. She didn't _want_ to wait until she was older and more sensible. She wanted to be a young girl who was a fool in love. An innocent child, a wild little ivy-crowned Elf queen who had bravely taken a human suitor. She stiffened her back, set her jaw, and internally _dared_ them to challenge her. Russell and Sabrina glanced at one another, unsure of who should break the news. Sabrina cleared her throat.

"Cecilia, honey… Your father and I have something to tell you…"


	3. Chapter 2: Like Brother and Sister

**Chapter 2: Like Brother and Sister**

Russell glanced back at Sabrina, wishing that she had just spat it out herself instead of throwing the ball back to him. Gathering his courage, he leaned forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the cool wood and clasping his hands in front of his chest. He imagined that it was a friendly, easygoing posture.

"Cecilia… I'm sure you've noticed that Sabrina and I spend a lot of time together, right?"

Cecilia nodded warily. Her father was speaking in soft, sickroom tones, and using her full name, but it didn't seem like she was in trouble. Maybe something else was happening. Maybe Sabrina and Nicholas were moving away! And she wouldn't be able to kiss Nicholas again for a very long time, perhaps even forever. But, she supposed, she _could_ send him handwritten letters, sprayed with perfume and laden with pressed flowers, a notion that she found terribly romantic. Wondering how to continue, Russell gauged his daughter's reaction, searching her face for clues. This yielded no answer for him, seeing as Cecilia had started daydreaming about her future in melancholy love-letter writing, and was no longer responding to the conversation itself.

"Anyway… You know I've always felt kind of bad that you didn't have a mom, remember? Well, I guess this wouldn't exactly be like having a mom, since you didn't grow up with her until now, but… The thing is, Cecilia…" He, admittedly, was stalling. "…Sabrina and I are getting married."

Cecilia's day-dreamy face twisted in to a mask of quiet panic. She thought that her father was about to tell her that she was forbidden from romance, that she and Nicholas would have to start sneaking out in the night to kiss in the vine room, green behind the ears and careless, eager to taste the sweet fruits of youth and be fools in love, no matter what her stodgy father said. Or that she and her love were to be torn apart by fate, given the privilege to pine for one another and send weighty, overwrought letters back and forth across the sea. Either of these would have been so devastating, so painfully, horribly romantic. But Cecilia hadn't been informed that the love she shared with Nicholas was scheduled to become star-crossed in the immediate future. She had, instead, been told that she had accidentally kissed her _stepbrother_, for goodness sake! A whimper leapt, unbidden, from her throat, cracking the frozen mask enough for her to speak.

"…WHAT!?"

Russell and Sabrina exchanged a worried glance. This wasn't exactly the reply they had been expecting. Russell let out a quiet, obviously intentional cough, and continued helpfully.

"Ceci… Sweetheart… I know it's a big adjustment, but I think we'll all be really happy this way."

Or at least, he _thought_ he was being helpful. Cecilia was more flustered than before.

"_Big adjustment_!? I'll say it's a big adjustment!"

Russell and Sabrina looked at each other again. Sabrina shifted in her seat.

"…I'll just go upstairs and let the two of you work this out, mmm'kay?"

With that, she padded up the creaky library stairs, leaving Russell alone with his stunned, furious daughter. His posture slackened, abandoning the contrived, friendly pose in favor of a more natural, if somewhat defeated one. Russell rubbed his forehead for a moment before daring to speak again.

"Ceci, do you mind telling me what this is all about?"

Cecilia paused for a moment, allowing herself to relax. Her father, after all, really _didn't_ know what it was all about. It wasn't the idea of her father getting married that bothered her. It was what it meant for her and Nicholas. Even if her father might not like the idea of her discovering what love really was, he at least deserved to know why she had reacted the way she did.

"Dad… Nicholas kissed… I kissed Nicholas today!"

_Well, that was a surprise. _Though Russell supposed that honestly, it shouldn't have been. The two children had always seemed very fond of one another, and, in fact, Russell didn't mind that his daughter was beginning to act on the tender feeling she was assuredly having. A little puppy love is a part of growing up, after all, and Cecilia was a bright girl. He could trust her not to go too far. Mostly, he was glad to at least partially understand her outburst.

"Oh, Ceci. Like I said… Big adjustment. Big, _big_ adjustment…"

For some reason she couldn't quite understand, Cecilia's embarrassed fury swelled again.

"Yeah, well… Now I'm always going to have to be some creepy girl who's first kiss was with her _stepbrother_! How am I supposed to _adjust_ to this, dad!?"

"Cecilia… It's okay… You didn't know."

"Not knowing doesn't change things, dad. I… Look, I just want to be alone, okay?"

"Ceci, it's fine, let's just…"

Before Russell could say "talk about it," Cecilia had stormed out of the library, slamming the door behind her. And with that loud, dreadful noise, Russell realized that he had finally entered the dreaded second stage of parenthood, the one where your formerly sweet little daughter started kissing boys, banging furiously around the house and slamming doors. And in this case, Russell feared, began insisting that he wasn't her real father. He would just have to be strong, he told himself. Never mind that he wasn't sure of how much strength he had left to give.

* * *

Still wearing her crown of ivy, Cecilia skulked angrily through the streets of the village, watching the lanterns springing to life. _The Elf Queen has fallen,_ she thought to herself. She found herself savoring her anger and sadness. It felt deliciously self-righteous, and something about wandering the town feeling sorry for herself, as the sky turned dusky blue and the streetlamps flickered on in the darkness, held an appeal for her. This, she thought, was _real life_. Adults don't pretend to be dragons, slide down mansion banisters, crown their loves with vines and share first kisses. Adults are _sad_ and _complicated_ and _serious_. They wander the streets at night thinking about _life_, and then go to the bar to get wobbly and stupid, because that's the only way they can ever really be happy. In spite of herself, Cecilia remembered that, in truth, she didn't _want_ to be a sad adult yet. She wanted to be a fool in love, and now that was being taken away from her, all because a pair of confused grownups couldn't stand being alone any longer. She loved her father, she really did, but in that moment, she hated him. Hated him for being so irresolute, so lonely and broken.

Over the past few years, Cecilia had gotten the idea that her father wasn't the most stable person in the world. Sure, when she was small, she knew that her had been in a war, and that this had somehow made him very sad, but her was always there for her. Her protector, the great constant in her small life. But she had only just realized what that sadness really was, how deep it ran, how many things she had assumed were entirely unconnected found their roots in it. When she would sleep over with Nicholas as a small child and wake up in the night to ask for a glass of water, Sabrina would tell her to go to the kitchen, and then to please go back to sleep. Russell, on the other hand would hop right out of bed, fetch her water for her, and then ask if she wanted him to read her a story. She always nodded yes, and the two of them would lie down in her bed together, her father reading until he couldn't anymore and drifted off to sleep still wearing his glasses. Cecilia, glad for the company, would bury her face in his warm shirt. These were their special times together, and though Cecilia still cherished those sweet memories, they had taken on a darker tone in her mind in recent times, as she realized that he probably needed the light and comfort more than she did. And then there was a conversation she had overheard the year before.

Apparently, not long after he moved in to the library, her father had been told by Dr. Edward that he was barely a fit parent, to say nothing of teetering unsteadily on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and that he had to get his act together or else he'd be committed somewhere until he could. Cecilia, of course, found this revelation very sad, and felt bad for her poor father, but she also found it annoying, in a way. If he couldn't care for her properly, why not just hand her over to someone that could? At least long enough for him to go to a place where his mind would have a chance of mending properly, instead of leaving him to, rather hastily, patch it back together himself. But no, Russell had been determined to be there for Cecilia, come hell or high water, and if what it took to make that happen was to plaster on a smile and go through the motions day in and day out, then that was what he would do. She was grateful, of course, and knew that such an undertaking was a sign of a love so great that she could barely wrap her mind around it, but she still wondered if her father might have faired better if he'd known how to let go.

And now, forever in search of something that would, once and for all, fix him, her father was getting married. His inability to just get his act together was finally starting to mess with her life, her kingdom destroyed, her ivy crown slipping from her head. Had he even known why she was wearing it? He probably thought it was part of some silly game she had been playing. Her love, the thought with a huff, was _not_ a game. And, though she did not know this at the time, neither was her father's love a desperate attempt to save himself, like a drowning man grabbing for a branch. Marriage, for Russell, may have been part of his quest for stability, but the love was real. A deep, mysterious _something_, a something as deep and dark and heavy as the one he had carried with him during the war, but this time, it was sweet and restorative. A sharp mental sigh and gasp that reminded him that he was alive.

* * *

"Cecilia seemed a little upset, don't you think?"

Russell and Sabrina were resting in bed together, him having hastily written up a sign for the library door. _Closed: family business in progress. We will be back tomorrow._ Sabrina rolled on to her side, her face just inches from his.

"Well, you can't blame the kid, really. It was probably unexpected, and between you and me, I think she might be just a little sweet on my son."

"…That actually seems to be the problem. After you came up stairs, Ceci told me that she and your boy just had their first kiss."

Sabrina laughed. Russell had no idea what was supposed to be funny.

"Well, it looks like she's just going to have to adjust her thinking, then. Shouldn't be too hard at her age."

Russell knew full well that steering one's heart was a daunting task at any age. He felt a bit bad for his daughter, who had probably been drunk on the heady fragrance of young love right up until the moment he told her the news, and tried to imagine what a letdown this all must have been.

"Should she have to, though? I mean… Do you still think we should go through with this?"

"Russell, the kid is thirteen years old. She has plenty of time to fall in love again."

"And what? We have to hurry up and get married because we're pushing forty and our time is almost up? Because I don't think that's a good reason…"

Sabrina sat up in bed, leaning against the wall."

"That's not what I'm saying at all."

Russell pulled his body up to sit next to her, gently resting his head on her tanned shoulder.

"Well, what are you saying, then?"

"I'm saying… I'm saying that when you're her age, you think you're as deeply in love as anyone has ever been, but that's just because you don't know what love really is. Love at that age is just seashells and walks in the forests and little pecks on the cheek with some kid who _might as well _be your brother, you know?"

Russell smiled wryly.

"And that's different from what we have… How?"

Sabrina laughed softly.

"Well, we're grown-up and can actually appreciate it."

Laughing, the two lovers sank back in to the blankets. Sabrina placed a soft kiss on Russell's neck, and he felt that wonderful heavy _something_ in his chest lurch up from the waters of his being, like a fish. Cecilia had yet to learn that adults, too, could be fools in love.

* * *

Cecilia woke that morning in a sour mood. Sabrina had spent the night, and she wondered if her father knew that she could _hear_ them over there. Hear their strange sounds, their shuffling in the blankets and happy voices, all the sounds of love. She wondered if he enjoyed it less because he knew that he had what she now could not. This resentment sat heavy in her body as she wrote in her diary, as she lay in her bed drifting to sleep. It was no wonder that she didn't particularly want to see either of them in the morning, so she was delighted when she woke up before they did. She decided to go for a stroll and sit on the dock for a while, and that perhaps she'd be more willing to talk to her father, or even, heaven forbid, _Sabrina_, after she'd gotten some sun and fresh air. Being outside always lifted Cecilia's mood, no matter how down she had been feeling. She wondered if it was because she was an elf. But only so much could be blamed on that, really.

When she got to the beach, Cecilia took off her shoes and sat down on the dock, hanging her bare feet over the water. She wished it would come up high enough for her to dip them, one of these days. But of course, it never did. Looking out at the water, she thought back to three years ago, to the seashell, and wondered if it would still be as precious to her now. Or perhaps even more so, now that it had become a representation of all that she would never, could never have. The fresh air, unfortunately, _wasn't_ helping. And she soon became aware that she wasn't alone.

"Hi!"

Cecilia had been wrong. Russell and Sabrina _weren't_ the last people she wanted to talk to. It was Nicholas. Ever-oblivious, ever- boyish Nicholas, who couldn't, it seemed, even manage a little seriousness after having learned that the love of his life was now his _sister_, for goodness' sake. Cecilia frowned.

"Seems like _you're_ in a good mood."

Nicholas sat down next to her on the dock.

"Of course I am, silly! It's a beautiful morning, and I've got a beautiful girl right next to me."

Cecilia winced. Perhaps Nicholas was just in a good mood because it plain didn't _matter_ to him whether or not they were related. Cecilia really wondered about boys, sometimes. Nicholas leaned in closer.

"Now let's do something about those morning blues of yours…"

When Cecilia realized that he was, indeed, leaning in to kiss her on the lips, she was as mortified as she had ever been in her life.

"…Nicholas, WHAT are you doing!?"

The boy looked confused, and slightly hurt.

"Trying to kiss you… Yesterday was so great, so I…"

His mind was racing. Maybe he hadn't done it right, or wasn't very good at it, or perhaps Cecilia had some kind of invisible, mysterious girl problem with the whole thing.

"But… Didn't your mother tell you!?"

Nicholas looked confused.

"…Tell me what? She spent the night at the library, so I haven't seen her yet today."

Poor Nicholas. Of _course_ he thought nothing had changed. Cecilia remembered the gentle creaking of the mattress in the next room, the whisper of sweet nothings that she couldn't understand, their secrets contained by the walls. Sabrina had probably been planning to tell him in the morning. Cecilia decided to take matters in to her own hands.

"Nicholas… Our parents are getting married. So we can't kiss anymore. Or, I guess we could, but it would be a little odd, and I don't think it's what I really want out of life, you know?"

Nicholas, at first, was sure she had to be playing a prank on him.

"…You're joking, right?"

"Unfortunately, no. They told me when I got home from the mansion. I came here as soon as I woke up because I'm mad at everyone."

Unsure of what to say, and a bit taken aback by the frankness of her last sentence, Nicholas sat staring out at the water. Certainly, this was a disappointment, and a terrible one. But surely one that Nicholas could recover from. He was used to family relationships forming, breaking, and changing, something that seemed to happen so quickly that it was hardly worth keeping up with. He knew that his mother had been briefly married to Neumann before he was born, and had, even more briefly, remarried him several years back. As for his real father… He had never seen him. Apparently, he had been a sailor who pulled up on shore, looking for a hot meal and a soft bed. Sabrina offered to feed and board him for free, he ended up staying for two weeks longer than he had intended, and that was that. Nicholas remembered that, when he was very little, his mother would still receive the occasional letter from her seafaring lover, but they had suddenly stopped a long time ago. That, Nicholas assumed, was the nature of life. The nature of love and family, transient and precious. And in this moment, indeed, he couldn't see Cecilia as a lover, or even a sister. He could only see his oldest and dearest friend, who was terribly sad. Nicholas didn't know how to make her feel better, but figured it would be worth a try.

"Well, um… Our parents always used to say we were like brother and sister, didn't they?"

He offered a small laugh. Cecilia said nothing.

* * *

In her room that evening, Cecilia could think of nothing other than that terrible, terrible phrase. _Like brother and sister._ People _had_ always said that about the two of them. Cecilia remembered loving it when she was little. It meant that they were close, close as two friends could ever be, and that was wonderful. Being close to Nicholas was one of the most important things in her life, as important as stones, as important as freedom to wander. And her desire for that closeness hadn't changed, but, now that they were older, the meaning of that once innocent little phrase had. "Like brother and sister" felt like an unbridgeable gap. Brothers and sisters can't get married. They don't kiss in overgrown mansions, don't do mysterious things in the dark. And if they _do_, people are appalled. She remembered accidentally overhearing Bianca as she whispered to Tabatha about some of the things that went on in certain branches of the de Sainte-Coquille family _"… well, she MARRIED her BROTHER, you know…"_ Apparently, the two of them had a child, who had been sickly and died early in life. It seemed to be assumed that they deserved it, like a curse. Even the cousin marriages that were far from uncommon in the family were seen as somewhat unseemly, often blamed for the streak of insanity that cropped up in certain family members.

Feeling bereft, and somewhat disgusted at herself for the lingering feelings that she couldn't help but carry in her heart, heavy as a lump of iron, Cecilia opened her treasure box, lazily rifling through its contents. Her best stones, scraps of notes and drawings, feathers, papery old four-leaf clovers, a favorite toy that had become too broken to play with, a ring that no longer fit. She shifted the contents of the box until she found her precious shell. It was beautiful, a shining opalescent white, the upward curve so graceful and perfect. Just looking at it made her think that she heard the sea, felt the cool, sparkling water rising around her. And she could almost see Nicholas from the past, so beautiful in the sunlight, running towards… No, not anymore. Nicholas was falling away from her. Clutching the shell so hard that the point at the top was digging in to her hand, somewhat painfully, Cecilia felt two streams of silent tears running across her cheeks. She almost enjoyed the feeling, enjoyed being alone with her loss and sadness. The knock at the door completely ruined the whole miserable, wonderful experience.

"…You can't come in!"

Russell cracked the door anyway. His daughter looked like she had been crying, and was sitting on her bed, treasure box open beside her. Through her clasped hands, he thought he could see the iridescence of a shell, that little token from years before. Russell remembered thinking the whole thing was cute, certainly a memory for the two of them to cherish. But in that moment, her realized that, to Cecilia, it had probably meant a great deal more.

"Alright, Ceci. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk, or…"

She shook her head and turned to look out the window, or perhaps just away from him. He wasn't sure which.

"I don't want to talk right now, dad."

Russell nodded.

"That's fine. I'll be over in my room if you change your mind."

Reluctantly, he closed the door behind him. Russell wished he could sit on her bed and console her, the way that he used to when she was little and whining about something or other. A stone dropped down a sink drain, a pet grasshopper found dried and dead in the bug cage on a rainy morning, assorted little tragedies. He'd pat her on the head, get out her favorite book of funny poems, and in just minutes, she'd be laughing, ready for whatever small joy or fascination the next hour would bring. But he had to remind himself that, being nearly fourteen, it was natural for her to actually _want_ to be sad and alone, sometimes. Russell himself had spent that year alternately perched in a tree with a heavy, rather morose philosophy book, scribbling furiously in a battered diary, or sitting on his bed, hugging his knees, wondering why his quiet, bookish ways were grounds for what he viewed as such savage ostracism. _Besides,_ he thought to himself, _she's just playing._ He saw the terrible sadness of adolescents and the rambunctious war games of children as being one and the same. A way to test the waters, to work out what life in the adult world might really be like. But they always left out the grimy, difficult parts, and once the game was over, it was over. Russell had seen enough of war and sadness to know the difference. They were not a game, were never really over. Cecilia would learn that in time. He picked up his book, and, with a sigh, sank in to his chair.

Cecilia may, indeed, have been just playing, but she did not yet realize it. As she sat on her bed with her treasure box, with her shell, all that she knew was that love had been ripped away from her, and in its place was something dreary and mockingly wholesome. _Like brother and sister._ She had felt for a long time that, in exchange for the unworried innocence of childhood, she was about to receive something else, something new and mysterious, perhaps just a bit frightening. And so she spent the past few years quivering with anticipation, sure that something would happen, some wonderful, painful, shining thing. When Nicholas crowned her with vines, kissed her in a golden sunbeam in an overgrown manor bedroom, she thought her _something_ had come for her at last. _But now,_ she thought bitterly, _THIS is what I get_. Feeling small and childish in her room, with her little treasures and stinging tears, she wondered if the thing for which she had been waiting was nothing more than growing older and sadder with each passing year, each passing loss. Unsure of what to do next, she got out her aquamarines, began lining them up on her quilt. She thought it would be nice to make them in to a necklace.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, at this point, you are beginning to see some patterns, aren't you? Certain things do come up over and over again in this story… The seashell, the ivy crown, the aquamarines, "fool in love," and so forth. Well, rest assure, you have not seen the last of them! ;) As for Russell's troubles after he moved to Kardia, and Nicholas' flighty sailor father… Well, they are to come up again as well! (Though only the former becomes a major plot point.)

We have also reached something of a turning point… Cecilia, I think, gets a bit annoying at times from here on in, but, well… She _is_ a teenage girl, after all! I actually find it a bit difficult to strike the correct balance with her. I try to convey that her pain is real to her, and that her emotions in general are very genuine and heartfelt, but she can be a tad maudlin and haughty at times, so I also try to show the humor in that. Generally, I'm trying to write her as a sympathetic character, while still showing some of her words and actions as being unjustifiably harsh. (She… Is a bit rough on her father in coming chapters.) The following chapters will also show a bit more of Sabrina and Nicholas' side of the story, so stay tuned!


	4. Chapter 3: Changes and Memories

**Chapter 3: Changes and Memories**

It was a cloudy, windy morning, and Russell was heading to the beach, to visit Sabrina. He had a few things to discuss with her, and, aside from that, was eager to see his fiancée. That word made something flip over in his chest. Ever since they had made their plans, Russell had almost been feeling young again. For a certain value of young, at least. His back had begun predicting the rain the previous night, long before the heavy purple-grey clouds had rolled in, but his heart felt light and boyish. Suddenly flush with life and energy after all these years, he found that even just waking up every day excited him. He liked feeling like there was still something new in the world, like his troubles were over, and he had found himself in a bright and shining place, where he'd no longer have to hurt as he had been hurting for so long. Russell, of course, knew that there was no such place, but wherever he was, it felt like the next best thing. Russell paused to gaze out at the dark clouds and choppy sea. A scene that was probably supposed to seem dark and forbidding, but to him, in that moment, it just looked alive and vital, trembling with potential. He took a deep breath, inhaling the enchanting scent of sea and rain, and then made his way to the beach house doorstep.

Sabrina was sitting in a chair by her bed, knotting a length of cord in to a new fishing net, when she heard someone coming up the stairs. Absorbed in her task, she decided to wait and see who it was and what they wanted before bothering to stand and greet them. To her delight, it was Russell, who paused at the top of the stairs to stretch, twisting his body around, trying to get at a joint that refused to crack. Sabrina sat her work down on the floor by her chair.

"Hey there, gorgeous," she purred softly, "looks like you need a back rub."

Russell nodded gratefully, as though he had ascended the stairs hoping she would offer. In terms of becoming stiff and creaky, he was a few years ahead of her. Or at least, she hoped. And Sabrina had to admit that there were aspects of this development that she enjoyed. Working the kinks out of his back had become an important part of their quiet moments together, and it seemed to her like it was the hallmark of the sort of couple that stayed together forever. She'd soothe his aching joints, he'd tell her that she was still pretty when she inevitably became a dried-up old sea hag. Sabrina smiled, and motioned towards the bed.

"Alright, then. Take off your shirt, lie down, and get comfy."

Russell left his shirt in a heap on the floor, sprawled on the bed, and closed his eyes, eager for the feeling of her warm hands on his skin. Sabrina, just as eager for the contact, placed her hands on the center of his back, pushing upwards towards his neck and shoulders. Though she had done this many times, his skin was still something of an unknown territory to her. He had scars that he didn't like talking about, scattered over his body like uncharted islands, his souvenirs of war. Before long, Russell felt the tension leave his body, as if melted by the heat of her hands. He let out a heavy, satisfied sigh, the sound that told Sabrina that her job had been done. She moved to the side, allowing him to sit up.

"…Feeling better, love?"

"Yes, thank you." He smiled, noticed that his glasses were slightly askew, and pushed them in to their proper position. "…How do you do that, anyway?"

Sabrina gave him a sly grin.

"I'm magic!"

"If that's the case, I think you should go to the city to study at the academy… Clearly, you're heavily gifted in the healing arts."

Sabrina loved his mischievous smile, his deadpan jokes.

"Nah, I like the beach too much."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that…" Russell cleared his throat. "Anyway… If we're going to do this, I think we have some things to discuss."

"Things like… What, exactly?"

"Like where we're going to live. I figured we should get one or the other of us settled before we even try to plan a wedding."

"Russell, we only have two options."

"Yeah, that's true, but… I don't want to take you away from the ocean, and I need to be at the library to keep things running smoothly, so…"

"…So, what? It's not like anything in this town can be considered 'away from the ocean," you know."

"Yes, but…"

"…But what? I still have to come back here to run my shop, so it's not like I'll be letting my house go, even if I'm not living there."

With anyone else, Sabrina would have been more insistent. She had loved the sea for as long as she could remember, and had worked hard to be able to buy a house there. The Spearfish Shack was where she lived with Neumann when they first moved to town, where she met her sailor, where she raised Nicholas. But the library, with its warm, dim light and dusty smell, held its own set of wonderful memories.

* * *

When Russell first arrived in Kardia, he was feeling a bit lost. He was still haunted by war, and hadn't the faintest idea of how to go about raising a child. Determined to muddle through, he divided his time between acquiring books, organizing the shelves, trying to figure out exactly what it was that Cecilia wanted from him _this_ time, and wandering around in a sleepless, miserable haze. What's worse, he realized that, in his frazzled state, he could hardly focus on his reading. The only time he could keep from mindlessly scanning the same page over and over again was when he read to Cecilia, rattling off story after story about princes and princesses and animals and flowers and dimwitted little gnomes with big pointed hats. Russell had begun reading adult books when he was seven years old, so being reduced to this level for so long quickly lost his novelty. He decided that he needed some help.

But he wasn't exactly sure of where to get it. A few of the villagers had children, but they all seemed permanently busy. A mayor, a doctor, a clergyman. Not only were they preoccupied, but he figured any advice they might have would be useless to him. One day, when he was walking home from the store, Cecilia in tow, he ran in to the innkeeper, who had _two_ children, so she probably knew what it was like to have a bit too much on her plate.

"Lady Ann? Ann? I… Hello!?"

Getting her attention proved difficult. She was desperately trying to stop her son from pulling on her daughter's long, blonde braids. The boy was laughing, the girl was whining, and their mother was trying to shove herself between them. Eventually, she realized that someone was speaking to her.

"…Unless you know a better way to break these two up, I don't have the time right now."

Russell adjusted his glasses with his free hand.

"I… Have no idea… That's kind of the problem, you see, I just adopted my daughter here, and… Well, I was just wondering if you could tell me anything about kids, you know?"

Lady Ann sighed.

"Honestly, I barely remember my kids being that age, and I have my hands full with these two, so don't expect me to have time to babysit."

Russell's face fell in an instant. He felt as though he were doomed to stumble cluelessly through parenthood for all eternity. Lady Ann realized that she might have been a little harsh.

"Alright, look… Land's sake, Zavier, stop putting dirt in your sister's hair… Sorry. Anyway, Sabrina down at the little shop by the beach? She has a son about your kid's age. Frankly, I don't think she knows the first thing about raising kids, either, but it seems like she has all the time in the world, and the two of you might be able to work through things together."

"…Sure. Thanks."

"No problem! …Tori, I know your brother's a pain, but kicking him in the shins was _hardly_ called for… Oh Zavier, stop crying, you had that coming and you know it…"

Russell watched as the three of them bickered their way down the street and eventually vanished in to the Inn. Lady Ann herself hadn't been much help, but at least he'd been given a bit of direction, which was better than nothing.

When Sabrina heard the knock at her door, she had just gotten Nicholas settled in at the kitchen table with some cookies and a glass of milk. Her son seemed contented enough, for the moment, so she figured she was free to answer.

"…Yes?"

She opened the door to find a slim, bespectacled, studious-looking young man, carrying a small girl, who looked to be around her son's age.

"Hi… I tried to ask Lady Ann some questions about… Well, just kids and all that, but she just told me to come to you."

Sabrina laughed, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Yeah, she kind of has her hands full with that brood of hers."

Russell wasn't sure that two children constituted a "brood," but he was happy that Sabrina seemed a bit more accommodating.

"I'll say. Kind of makes you a little afraid for the future, doesn't… Ceci, stop that. Hey, cut that out, leave my glasses alone… I mean it. Daddy needs those to _see_, sweetheart…"

Russell seemed to be having enough trouble with his child right in the here-and-now. Sabrina found the irony amusing.

"You just have to be firm with them… Well, not too firm, of course, I personally think both kids and adults need a gentle touch… Here, I'll show you… Ceci, _no_." She grabbed the glasses from Cecilia's small, curious hand, and placed them back on Russell's face. "…These have to stay here, okay?"

Russell was amazed, both by how easily Sabrina had ended the situation, and the brazenness required to put a pair of glasses back on someone's face without asking.

"How… How did you do that?"

She smiled.

"Like I said… Firm and gentle. Now… Do you want to come in? You can ask me all the questions you want, and little Ceci can play with my Nicholas if she wants to."

Russell and Cecilia smiled shyly at one another. Apparently, they'd each just made a new friend.

Russell was glad to have someone to assist him, and, in all honesty, look out for him. Sabrina was a source of insight and companionship, and their children seemed to enjoy one another, which assuaged his worries that his adopted, elven daughter would have to grow up as a friendless misfit. Sabrina seemed to enjoy having Cecilia around, so Russell had someone to leave her with if he wanted to go to the bar, or perhaps even a few hours of uninterrupted naptime. Still, he realized that all was not well. He hadn't really had a proper night's sleep in an unhealthily long while, and was finding it difficult to get through the days. He'd either wake up in a cold sweat, feeling terrified and helpless, or spend the day feeling just fine, until he didn't. Something would happen inside of him, and then he'd need to lie down, or lock himself in the bathroom to breathe shallowly and cry in to the sleeves of his shirt. Russell didn't really remember being much of a crier before this. Something was wrong, and something had to be done. Perhaps he needed a doctor.

By the time Russell finally managed to drag himself in to the clinic, he was looking somewhat the worse for wear. He hadn't quite been able to manage sleeping, cooking, or much personal grooming beyond going to the bathhouse and sitting listlessly in the hot water, for several days, and it this neglectful lifestyle had quickly become apparent on his face, especially around the eyes. Even Dr. Edward, who had seen more people in more terrible states than he cared to remember, was somewhat taken aback. Not that he ever let it show.

"So… What brings you in today."

It took a few moment for Russell to realize that someone was speaking to him. The sleepless nights and terrible memories had created something like a dense fog around his being.

"I need new glasses. And I wanted to see if you could do anything about the… Well, the troubles with insomnia that I've been having."

Edward could tell just by looking at him that Russell's problems likely ran deeper than some trouble sleeping and a pair of beat-up glasses.

"Right… We'll do an eye exam in just a bit, but it seems like the most important thing is to get you sleeping properly again. When did the problem start?"

Russell was no longer exactly sure.

"It's been off and on for the last two years or so, I guess. I was still in the military when it happened, and…"

Dr. Edward had been a military doctor for years, and had honestly suspected that he knew what Russell's problem was from the moment he walked through the door. It was the deep blue shadows below his hollow eyes, and a certain empty, fearful, skittish look that he could never forget if he tried.

"…I completely understand. War is hell… Isn't that right, Camus?"

A sullen, sturdily-built teenage boy was sitting on a couch in the back of the room, nose buried in a thick book of military history.

"Please don't start, dad."

Edward gave Russell an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry… My son doesn't know anything. Anyway, I'm going to write you a prescription. Lamp Grass is pretty powerful stuff, but I think that's more than justified in your case… Are you having any problems during the day? Anxiety, mood swings… Flashbacks, maybe?"

"I don't know about flashbacks… I've wondered if that's what they were before, so…"

"…If you wondered, you were probably right. That being the case, I'm going to be a little unorthodox here. In addition to your nighttime dose, you're going to take a lower dose during the day. Does that sound alright?"

Russell didn't know if it sounded alright or not, but he was willing to try anything.

"If it works, then it's what I want to do."

"…Good! Now, keep in mind that this isn't a fix, it's just something to keep you at an even keel while you work on getting better. What you really need to do is go back to the land a little, you know? Get back in touch with the earth, work on feeling alive again."

Russell wasn't sure of what he thought of this mellow, long-haired, nature-loving doctor, but he appreciated that he at least seemed to be sensitive towards other people's problems.

"…If you say so."

"Great, great. Just keep in mind that this stuff will make you a little groggy at first, okay?"

A little groggy, indeed. Having taken his first dose, Russell was surprised at how much he loved the stuff, loved the feeling of utter numbness, the anodyne sense of disassociation. He remembered that he shouldn't allow himself to enjoy it _too_ much, because, having done a bit of research, he'd found out that it could be ferociously addictive, and even taking it at the levels prescribed to him was somewhat questionable. And it obviously wasn't meant for daytime use, because upon taking a few drops of the foul-tasting concoction that first morning, he found it impossible to hold his eyes open. Sure enough, the despair and flashbacks had been banished, but this medicated lassitude brought with it a new sort of panic. He realized that he was now virtually incapable of keeping watch over Cecilia. He'd nod off at his desk for a few moments, and then wake with a start, certain that something had happened to her. It occurred to him that, until his body got used to the drug, he might require an assistant. And he could only think of one person who could fill that role.

"Um… Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I'm on some medication that makes me kind of tired, so I was wondering if you might be able to come over and watch Ceci for a few hours every day?"

By now, Sabrina was used to Russell knocking at her door, and, in truth, kind of looked forward to it. She often craved a companion who could help her pass the time, and honestly enjoyed his company.

"Sure, I can do that… It's no trouble at all. Ah… Maybe I should walk you home?"

Russell was certain that he could get to the beach house and back before the drug kicked in, but he had underestimated how quickly it would hit him.

"Yeah… Yeah… That'd be a good idea."

Sabrina grew to love the hours they spent together in those days, in Russell's dark, warm bedroom above the library. Sabrina would flip through a book and compose letters to her long-gone sailor, while Russell napped in his bed and their children played together on the floor. Building great stacks of blocks, only to knock them down with the sort of destructive glee that only children know. In his more lucid moments, Russell loved watching the two of them together. Cecilia amazed him. Such a new little person, always discovering something fresh and interesting in the world. And she, he realized, had come out of the same hell that he had. So maybe that was what he had to do. Become a new person, and discover the world all over again. It was probably more easily said than done, but he remembered his old spark, that fire in his mind, so driven to discover and learn.

"Sabrina… I'm hopeless…"

_Oh, what now?_ The sedating properties of the Lamp Grass tincture had brought out a rather bizarre streak of unfounded, spacey depression in him, and she was always almost excited to hear what he'd come up with next. Whatever he said, she'd make fun of it, and he'd laugh. It was an efficient way of lifting his mood.

"…What is it this time, Russell?"

"I'm trying to read a book, but I keep falling asleep. It's awful. A librarian should be able to… Well, read… But I have to take this terrible stuff because I was in a war and now I can't sleep… But I don't think it's really worth it… I don't think I'll feel better until I read… But I can't read…"

Sabrina smiled, and reached over to push the hair out of his face.

"…How about I read to you?"

"I guess that would work…"

She picked up the book, began reading, and a new daily ritual was born. Sabrina would sit at the edge of the bed, thick book in her lap, reading in a soft voice. Russell, though often only half-conscious, loved listening to her. Nicholas and Cecilia were a ways off from understanding the sort of books that Russell enjoyed, but they still gathered around the bed, eager to hear a story, even if they couldn't make sense of it. Realizing that the contents of Russell's icebox were rather pathetic, and being of the belief that man could not live by stale manju alone, Sabrina added "make dinner" to her list of tasks, and the four of them would gather in the bedroom with their plates, eager to hear the next chapter of the story. Sabrina wondered if this was how it felt to have a real family.

Eventually, Russell adjusted to the medication, and, not long after, it was decided that he could stop taking it, save for emergencies. At this stage, not all was going according to plan. Tapering the dose made him depressed, headachy, and erratic. And though he was better at gritting his teeth and white-knuckling through the days, days that were often spattered with sadness and terror and the occasional flashback, he didn't seem to be anything close to recovered. Phrases like "chronic battle fatigue" were being tossed around, and his ability to look after himself, let alone a child, was being called in to question. Dr. Edward suggested that he might need to go away and rest for a while. Russell knew that he meant well, but it wasn't like he could raise a child or run a library from some godforsaken sanitarium. He'd just need to clean up his act, put on a brave face, save his falling apart for private moments. In a way, this was just what he needed to do. For reasons that weren't quite clear to him, Sabrina stayed by him through the whole wretched thing, and was always trying to get him to have fun and forget his troubles. He particularly loved accompanying her to the bar, the quiet trek down the dark street, both of them eager to laugh the night away, while Russell drank himself to the numbness that he had come to crave. Everything, it seemed, was going to be alright.

* * *

"Nah, I like the library… Wait, you're not going to sell this house, are you?"

Sabrina was relieved that Nicholas didn't seem too bothered about the idea of moving to the library. Or perhaps he was just somewhat distracted. He appeared to be leafing through a childhood picture book, and Sabrina was craning her neck, trying to remember which one it could have been.

"Of course not, honey. I still have to run my store, and Russell and I agreed that this is a better house for events and parties, you know?"

"I guess so… So, I can still have a room here?"

"If you want to, I guess. We're going to move most of our things to the library, but if you want to fix this place up…"

"Ah, cool! I'll finally have my own hideout, and…"

Nicholas kept chattering on, working out his grand plans for his little fortress by the sea, but Sabrina wasn't listening. She had finally recognized the book.

It was full of pressed flowers, the flowers that were given to him by Cecilia over the years, arranged in a silent chronology, a wordless story. Old, crumbling, and yellowed on the first pages, all the way to a few near the back of the book that appeared to still be sticky. The book itself was an illustrated copy of an old fairy tale, about the then-forbidden romance between a human boy and the princess of the elves. He remembered when he first placed a flower between its pages, how she had swelled with pride when she noticed that he had chosen just the right book. Her son was growing up to be quite the little romantic, just like his long-lost father. It was the same giddy joy she felt when she noticed that Nicholas's hair was coming in wavy and thick, in unknowing imitation of a man he'd never met. Her sailor's hair had been a light brown, sun-bleached to gold at the tips, but the feel of it was just the same. Even if he hadn't written in years, even if he was married or dead or heaven only knows what, Sabrina was delighted that he had left a little piece of himself, first in her body, and then in her home, behind. Whether he liked it or not.

It occurred to her that Nicholas might have been looking over the book because he was feeling sad about the direction that things had taken.

"Nicky… You really like Cecilia, don't you?"

Nicholas hadn't heard that childish nickname in years, and though it could be a bit embarrassing, he didn't exactly mind it.

"I do. But it's not like I'm never going to see her again, so I guess it's okay. So long as I can think of how things were sometimes, y'know."

Sabrina placed her hand on his head with intent to mess up his hair, but, as always, there wasn't much messing up left to be done.

"…Say, aren't you a little young for nostalgia?"

Nicholas shrugged.

"I don't think you can be too young for that, as long as you're old enough to remember things being different a while ago."

Sabrina smiled warmly. _My son, the romantic._

* * *

Though they weren't exactly moving across a great distance, the move proved to be quite the endeavor, and one that Cecilia certainly could have done without. Russell and Sabrina had to enlist the help of several neighbors, and every morning, Cecilia would wake to the sound of someone groaning, straining, and swearing, filling _her_ house with more and more of _Sabrina's _junk. And that's what it was to her, junk. Musty, ugly, and even worse than that, _unfamiliar_ junk. She herself had to help Nicholas with organizing and packing the contents of his disaster area of a room. Which, she thought, wouldn't have been so bad, if only he had been moving _away_, and not in to her home to enable their parents' marriage. She could close the door, kiss him amongst the piles of nature books, toy weapons, jars of dead bugs. It would have been terribly romantic, of course. And though she still loved Nicholas, as a friend, as a person, and, admittedly, in ways that were now embarrassing-verging-on-taboo, she couldn't help but feel like she was stuck helping her _brother_ with his dirty, disgusting, _boy_ junk. This conflict only made her feel worse.

Once everything deemed important had been moved from the Spearfish Shack to the library, things were a bit better, or at least less of a spectacle. Instead of assorted neighbors lugging boxes, Cecilia woke up to the sound of Tori and her husband, Raguna, laughing as Russell and Sabrina ordered them around the house, telling them what goes where, and to please take care not to break anything. Cecilia liked sitting on the stairs and watching them. Inevitably, Tori _would_ break something. Nothing important, usually just a glass cup, or a figurine that could be easily glued back together. But you wouldn't know it from her flustered, stuttering apologies. Russell would tell her that really, it was just fine, and Sabrina would make some joke that Tori wasn't exactly sure how to interpret. It looked like so much fun that Cecilia sometimes wanted to join in, but she wasn't sure how to do that without seeming over-eager. Sensing that the young girl might be feeling a bit left out, Tori, showing a surprising amount of initiative for such a passive young woman, decided to take matters in to her own hands.

"Ceci… Would you like to help me with Sabrina's books? She… She mostly has a lot of fishing books, but she also has a lot of oceanography ones… W-with such pretty pictures, and maybe we could take our time putting them away…"

Cecilia liked Tori, and was intrigued by the idea of leisurely shelving books, while actually spending most of their "working" time staring at pretty pictures of blue water and fish.

"That sounds okay…"

"…G-good then. Just follow me."

Once upstairs, with the big, beautifully illustrated books spread out around them, Tori wasn't sure how to begin the conversation. She had noticed that Cecilia had seemed a little gloomy, and, having been a retiring and tender-hearted adolescent herself, she felt a great deal of empathy for the suddenly quiet and wounded-seeming girl.

"C-ceci… Have you been… Well lately?"

Cecilia shrugged.

"Well as ever."

"Good, then. If… If there's anything you'd like to talk about, I'm a pretty good listener, you know?"

Ever since she was little, Cecilia had felt comfortable around Tori. Her gentle manner, somewhat ethereal presence, and the very _softness_ of her made her seem different from the other humans that inhabited her small world. She had about her just the slightest bit of magic…

"…I don't know if I really want Nicholas to be my brother, Tori."

"Oh…?"

"Yeah… I mean, I like him a lot, but I think I might like him in _other_ ways, you know?"

Tori nodded gently. Having spent a bit too much of her youth pining over Russell, she knew well what it was like to want someone you can't have.

"That… Really must have been a blow, right? But re-remember that I'm here if you need someone to talk to, alright?"

Tori wondered if part of Cecilia's problem was that she didn't have any other girls her age to talk to. Though she had been a shy, uncommunicative girl, with the potential to have been quite lonesome indeed, Tori didn't remember ever quite feeling alone when she was Cecilia's age. She was always with Mist -Misty, as Tori called her- and Melody, her dear friends. For a few magical years, the trio was inseparable, and they'd go on all kinds of adventures together. Trying to tame small fluffy monsters, and sneaking on to carriages bound for the city, where Tori, browsing in a used book store, found one of the great loves of her life: The Dolphin Prince. It was a tale of tragic forbidden love between two young men from different worlds, and was, in retrospect, probably a good deal too old for her younger self. This, of course, didn't stop her from passing her treasure along to her companions, and the three of them spent weeks sitting in their bedrooms and whispering about it, giggling and fidgeting with the knowledge that they were probably getting away with something. That was probably Tori's favorite era of their friendship. Except, perhaps, for the Witches' Coven.

It was all Melody's idea, of course, but the other two girls quickly became just as absorbed in it all as she was. Tori fondly remembered the scent of the candles they lit, the music of their little incantations, the weight of the great stacks of spellbooks that she would lug to their hideaway in the abandoned farmhouse. Hidden in the shadowy darkness and warm, quivering candlelight, the three of the would draw elaborate designs in chalk, hoping to finally manage to conjure something. Melody, they all agreed, had the most natural aptitude, for her "potions" were marvelous, even if they were little more than lovely-smelling oils that the girls took to adding to their baths and wearing as perfume. She remembered the gravity of their whispers as they tried to figure out which element each of them belonged to. _Melody, water. Mist, earth. Tori, wind._ Tori still had the wind crystal that she kept in her pocket in those days.

Eventually, they realized that magic was a very specific field of study, and it involved a lot more than chanting mantras on a dirty wood floor, the three of them drifted apart, on to other things. Misty started cavorting around with that headstrong Rosetta girl, and Tori began work at the library, began spending too many of her waking hours following Russell around so she could write down every beautiful thing he did in her diary. Melody was the only one who retained her interest in becoming a witch, so when she moved away to open a bathhouse and study magic, Tori was actually glad. She liked to think that the two of them had retained a spark of their girlhood closeness, and they still sent letters back and forth. Melody even returned to Kardia for Tori's wedding, and, not long after, the birth of her son. Tori didn't know what she'd have done without such a friendship, so she naturally felt some concern for Cecilia. If she ever decided to become a witch, who would form her coven? She wished that this solitary young girl could one day know the sparkling, almost romantic magic that the three of them had shared all those years ago.

* * *

**A/N:** I am so late in posting this chapter, I know! It's just that it went on a bit long… So long that I have decided to make the ending of chapter three in to the beginning of chapter four. And yet, this chapter is _still_ longer than the others! Ah, well… It's kind of a rambling, in-between, character backstory sort of chapter, so I guess being long suits it. The next chapter returns to the main plot threads, and I hope you had as much fun reading about the character's pasts as I had dreaming them up and writing them. Also, for the curious… The Lamp Grass medicine that Russell was taking in that flashback? I actually loosely based it on Laudanum. Somehow, it makes sense to me to view Lamp Grass as the opium poppies of the RF universe. ;)


	5. Chapter 4: A Middle Aged Fool in Love

**Chapter 4: Just a Middle-Aged Fool in Love**

Though the idea would have delighted her just a few years prior, Cecilia didn't exactly enjoy sharing a room with Nicholas. She missed her peace and quiet, the freedom to sit on her bed and write in her diary in solitude, not having to carry her clothes in to the bathroom to change. And besides, he was _dirty_! Cecilia wasn't always the tidiest girl in the world, but she came to resent the muddy boot-marks on her rugs, the disorganized piles of junk and treasures that littered his side of the room. She decided to take it up with her father in private.

"…What's the trouble, Ceci-dear?"

He was sitting at the front desk of the library, signing papers with a slightly leaky fountain pen that he could never bear to part with.

"Dad… I know Nicholas is my friend, but I don't know if I like him in my room…"

"…Oh? You're not getting along?"

That wasn't exactly the problem. Usually, they got along just fine, and even managed to have some fun. The two of them would occasionally stay up late in to the night, laughing, playing cards, and telling funny stories. It reminded Cecilia of when they were small and would spend the night at each other's houses.

"No, it's not that… It's just that I don't really have any time to myself, you know?"

She watched her father shaking his pen, spattering ink everywhere. Russell frowned.

"…Right. You're your father's daughter, after all. I wouldn't like being stuck in my room with another person all day, either. Sabrina and I were talking about having someone put another room on the back of the library, so we'll see what comes of that. If it works out, you'll have a brand new room, all to yourself!"

"…That's almost worse! I want _my_ room."

Russell wasn't quite sure of how to handle this strange, testy young woman who had suddenly taken up residence in his house.

"Okay… Then Nicholas will have his own room. Is that better?"

Cecilia thought for a moment.

"That would be fine."

"Good! And in the meantime, you two enjoy yourselves. You never know what you'll be nostalgic over in a few years, you know?"

She knew well what he meant, but she decided that her father, once again, had no idea what he was talking about. She would _never_ be nostalgic for the days when the people who made her suitor in to a brother cruelly forced her to spend every night locked in a room with him, tormented by what she couldn't have, and unable to be alone and wallow over it. Cecilia felt cornered.

Even so, there _was_ something to be said for making the most of things. When she was in the mood for company, spending time with Nicholas in their room was surprisingly enjoyable. They read books, played games, and worked on endless art projects. Between the two of them, they nearly filled the room with the folded paper cranes that Mei had taught them how to make many years ago. But, when she felt like being alone, which seemed to be more and more often as the days went by, Cecilia had taken to escaping to other places. She'd wake up early, grab a book and a few snacks, and head out in to the misty dawn. Eventually, she'd find a place that seemed comfortable, such as the mansion staircase, or the mouth of a cave, or the crook of a large tree, and lose herself in the book until she figured it was time to head home for dinner. On the rare occasion when she actually felt herself getting lonely, she would walk to the ruins to visit Sharon. Cecilia thought that the gently eerie, vanishingly reclusive wisp of a woman was absolutely beautiful. And, most importantly, she was quiet. She'd greet the young elven girl and say little else, aside from offering a cup of tea. Cecilia would sip the warm, fragrant liquid as she watched Sharon standing by the still water, brushing her long, silken, silver-grey hair. Cecilia wanted to be just like her one day. Beautiful, so mysterious and quiet, and, most importantly, able to be utterly alone whenever the need struck her. These escapes to quiet places soon became vital, and ever more frequent. _Who needs a room, anyway?_ And besides, she trusted Nicholas to take care of her things. Perhaps, she later thought, she shouldn't have.

"Hi!"

Cecilia had grown used to the cool quiet of the mansion, where she had spent that afternoon, so being confronted with Nicholas so soon after having left it was something of a shock.

"Uh… Hello there, Nicholas."

She sat down on her bed with her book, hoping he wasn't expecting much in the way of conversation.

"Guess what I did today?"

Apparently, he was. Cecilia realized that she didn't exactly mind, and a companion that does more than offer you tea and sit looking at the water with you might actually be a nice change of pace.

"Um… I haven't the faintest."

Cecilia, having recently come across that phrase in a book, had taken to using it. She loved its intelligent, serious, somewhat unusual sound and feeling.

"Well, I went to Leo, and I made this for you!"

Nicholas rifled through his pockets for a moment, pulling out a shining blue necklace. It was very simple, nothing more than polished aquamarines strung on a thread, but it was absolutely beautiful, they way the blue stones sparkled in the sun, like clear water. Cecilia was speechless. Her first thought was that it was absolutely lovely. Her second was that she hadn't been more disappointed since the day that she returned to the library crowned with ivy, and went from feeling like a fool in love to feeling like a fool, period. _She_ had wanted to make the necklace! Just yesterday, she had been considering forgoing her solo wanderings in favor of spending the afternoon in the hot, sooty shop, boring holes and stringing beads.

"Nicholas… You could have asked me."

"What… You don't like it?"

"I like it fine! I just wanted to make it myself is all!"

Cecilia wanted to storm off, slam the door. But she was, of course, already in her room. Nicholas, suddenly stunned and downhearted, decided that he would be the one to leave. Cecilia sank in to her bed, examining the sparkling jewels, and wondered why she had acted as she did. It really was a beautiful necklace, and he had only wanted to make her happy. Perhaps it was one last token of love before the nature of their relationship forever and truly changed. Even so, something about sharing a room had made her territorial. The thought of Nicholas taking her stones from her desk and taking her plans in to his own hands made her feel like she was about to panic. Unsure of how she felt about it, she shoved her necklace in to one of her desk drawers, where it would wait until she could form an opinion. Feeling at once guilty for her reaction and angry that Nicholas had over-stepped his boundaries, Cecilia fell backwards on to her bed, staring up at the ceiling that she and Nicholas had decorated with colorful paper stars all those years ago.

* * *

"Cecilia, eat your curry rice."

She didn't really think that Russell had a right to tell her what to do, given that he seemed just as distracted as she was. He was gazing in to space and swirling the wine in his glass in to a small whirlpool.

"…Dad, it's not like _you're_ eating, either."

"Well, yes, but…"

Sabrina cut them off.

"…But you both should hurry up and eat. Ivan is coming over after dinner."

Admittedly, Cecilia was a bit curious. Ever since she was a little girl, she'd found the young merchant incredibly handsome and intriguing. And now, apparently, he was to be visiting the house.

"Really? How come?"

"Because I told him to bring over some clothes for us to try on… You know, for the wedding."

Cecilia looked down at her plate, pushing a few grains of rice around in the brown sauce. She didn't want to be forced in to some stuffy new dress that she would only wear once, and on the worst day of her life, even. Still, to her surprise, she found something about it slightly appealing. Cecilia had been developing a new interest in being pretty, and a lovely new dress might be just the thing.

"…Alright."

The four of them had finally finished dinner, and were waiting in the library when they heard the knock at the door. Russell and Sabrina, nervously cheerful, were the ones to answer it. Cecilia and Nicholas hung back shyly, anxiously wondering what their young, awkward bodies would look like in their formal grown-up clothing. Ivan wrapped Russell in a brief but warm hug, and then did the same for Sabrina.

"First off, I'd just like to congratulate you two. I'm sure you're looking forward to a long and happy life together."

Russell smiled and pushed his glasses in to place.

"…If all goes well, that's the plan."

Ivan looked around the room for a moment, before his eyes landed on the stiffly-posed adolescents waiting by the stairs.

"Hello, Nicholas and Ceci. You're growing in to quite the lovely young lady and gentleman."

Cecilia smiled nervously. She knew he was just being nice, but she still hoped that he really thought she was becoming pretty. Ivan cleared his throat.

"…Anyway. I have the traditional wedding garments for you two, and then a few things for the kids to try on. Is that alright?"

Sabrina shrugged.

"Seems golden."

"Right, right… How about you two try your outfits on first, while Cecilia and Nicholas pick something out?"

"Sounds like a plan… Doesn't it?"

She nudged Russell with her elbow.

"…Oh! Yes. Sounds good."

Russell was feeling just as nervous as his daughter. He was worried that he would feel like a fool in that getup, but it wasn't like he could say that out loud. Sabrina took his arm, leading him in to the library bathroom, bringing a large pile of folded white clothing with her.

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Playful as always, Sabrina was nothing but excited.

Once inside the bathroom, Russell was more nervous than ever. It wasn't as though there was anything new left for Sabrina to see, but there was something about having to stand in a small space and change in front of another person that reminded him of his military days. Disrobing with another person in a bedroom or out in the woods or on the beach is romantic, but this was something different. Reluctantly, he removed his shirt. Sabrina laughed.

"…How are you still so shy?"

Russell coughed, feeling cold and conspicuous in his underwear.

"I'm not shy, this is just a different situation."

Sabrina smirked playfully.

"What, scared I'm going to snap you with a towel?"

"No, I… Hold on, you snapped me with a towel just last week! It raised welts…"

Somehow, that defused the situation, and Russell managed a laugh as he buttoned

His shirt and waistcoat. He wondered who had started the tradition of wearing such needlessly complicated clothing.

"…Russell, could you zip me up?"

Sabrina's dress, on the other hand, seemed simple enough.

"Oh… Sure, I can do that."

All his right hand wanted to do was to lovingly trace the pretty tan lines on the smooth skin of her back. But, somewhat reluctantly, he grasped the zipper, pulling it upwards slowly and gently, trying to draw out the moment. He loved that their heights were just different enough for him to gently bend his neck down and rest his chin on her shoulder. With the zipper closed, Russell wrapped his arms around her from behind, not yet ready to let go. Enjoying the moment herself, Sabrina leaned in to his embrace.

"…I love you, you know?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. More than you'll ever know… Just don't forget your pants."

The bathroom was filled with laughter once more.

By the time the two of them came out, Cecilia still wasn't sure which dress she wanted. It didn't matter, she figured, because she wasn't much of a fan of this entire concept. Even so, she had to concede that Sabrina _did_ look pretty in her dress, and if Cecilia could look half that lovely in her own… Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Nicholas, who had chosen a sharp black-and white suit, decorated with ornate golden embroidery, smiled.

"You two look like the top of a cake!"

Sabrina laughed.

"We do, do we?"

She wasn't sure about that, but she did love the way they looked together. She watched as Russell tugged at his collar, gently adjusting it to accommodate his sensitive neck. He really was a terribly handsome man, albeit in a weedy, bookish kind of way. Or at least in her opinion, which was the only one that mattered. She was especially delighted to find that he had the sort of face that improved with age. Over the years, she had watched the grooves around his eyes deepen, watched his jaw and cheekbones advancing forward, giving sharpness and authority to his boyish face. The strands of silver in his mouse-brown hair made his light, gentle coloration appear softer than ever. Of course, Sabrina didn't think he needed fancy clothing to look wonderful. In fact, she liked him best in nothing at all, allowing her to take in his pale skin with its fascinating scars, to admire the sharp tips of his shoulder blades. Most clothing made him look scrawny, but his arms and back, though narrow, had a wiry solidness that she found beautiful. In fact, his white suit was just well-fitted enough to give a hint of his true shape. Sabrina smiled.

"Ceci, your father's a heartbreaker."

Cecilia looked up from the row of folded dresses that she was studying intently, and watched Russell as he pulled at his collar, nervously adjusted his glasses. She supposed that, objectively, he was a rather nice-looking fellow indeed, but it wasn't like Cecilia could be objective. She couldn't see anything but her father, whom she had seen in too many undignified situations over the years. Dropping large stacks of books, or standing shirtless at the stove and frying eggs. Sitting in his chair looking dejected, a thick book in one hand and an over-filled glass of liquor and ice in the other.

"Um, if you say so…"

Sabrina shrugged. Even if no one else could see it, _she_ certainly could, and since she was the one who was marrying him, she figured that her opinion was the only one that really counted. Before anyone had anything else to say about it, Nicholas burst out of the bathroom.

"…Okay, I made my choice!"

Sabrina stifled a laugh.

"Are you sure you don't want to try anything else?"

"Um… Yeah? This is my favorite."

"Nicky, you look like a _butler_."

He grinned from ear to ear.

"I know!"

"…Alright, then. I'm not one to stifle my child's self-expression."

She patted her son's head, then turned towards Cecilia.

"Ceci, aren't you going to choose something?"

Cecilia hadn't been having much luck. All of the dresses that Ivan had brought seemed somehow wrong for her. They all seemed to be in colors she knew would make her look sickly, or were too grown up, or too childish, or just looked like they were made for someone with a different personality than hers. She wanted something that would make her look and feel like Queen of the Elves. Finally, she spotted something with potential.

"Um… This one, I guess."

As soon as Cecilia had the dress in the bathroom with her, she knew it was perfect. Instead of running straight across, the hem hung in uneven points, and there were ribbons running up the back corset-style. It was made of layers of a gauzy material, colored in shades of lavender and pale blue. The neckline was decorated with leaves embroidered in silver thread and tiny sparkling glass beads. Having slipped in to the ethereal-looking garment, she examined herself in the mirror. She was _pretty_. The pale blues and purples had brought out a sunny pink tone in her hair, made her skin look cool and radiant. She felt as though she could see the kind of woman that she was going to become, and found her perfect, couldn't wait to get there and be her at last. And, with a twinge of sadness, she wished that she could have received this dress in another time, another place. She wanted to wear it with Nicholas, Nicholas in his adorable butler's outfit, and kiss him at a festival by the beach, at a masquerade ball, in the abandoned mansion, anywhere. Cecilia sighed sadly, let the idea go, and stepped out in to the library.

"Wow, I think that's the one!"

Sabrina was smiling. And Cecilia, for the first time since this whole miserable thing began, managed to smile back. Even Ivan seemed to approve.

"Good, good… I don't know much about fashion, but let's see how you all look together."

The four of them gathered in front of the stacks, self-conscious and dressed to the nines. Cecilia looked to her left, and felt a sharp pang in her chest. She realized that she didn't, and would never, belong. Here was a middle-aged librarian, standing with his wife and stepson. And what was she to them? Admittedly, she wasn't quite sure. She was related by blood nor marriage, a sharp-eared little interloper. She stood of straight and set her jaw, proud. Even if she didn't belong in this scene, she was _pretty_, and that should count for something. Seemingly out of nowhere, Ivan produced a camera. Cecilia confronted the lens with a brittle smile.

* * *

The evening after the four of them had posed for a snapshot in the library, Russell and Sabrina sat in the kitchen together, at a loss for anything to do, but enjoying one another's company nonetheless. Russell, as always, had a book, and Sabrina had pulled her chair close to him, resting her head on his shoulder and occasionally reading a stray line. It was a dense book about the history of mining. Russell, of course, would read anything he could get his hands on, due to a seeming interest in pretty much everything in the world. Sabrina loved this, because, seen through his eyes, everything _was_ interesting. Still, she didn't like letting him stay shut up in the house for too many nights in a row. It made him listless and depressed, and she couldn't stand seeing him like that. With a sigh, she let her body sink in to his.

"…What do you want to do tonight, lover?"

Russell shifted in his seat.

"I don't know… Finish this book?"

"I meant _where_ do you want to _go_ tonight, actually."

"…Yeah, I had that figured out."

Sabrina shrugged.

"Well, we could always go to the bar… Do some celebrating, you know?"

The book slammed shut.

"…You know you don't really have to ask me that, right?"

Humming with an almost illicit sort of excitement, the pair took off in to the soft dusk.

Russell loved the walk to the bar, feeling the cool breeze on his face, the warm weight of Sabrina on his arm. It was only a few yards, really, but it always felt like a journey. Sabrina, oddly enough, was the chivalrous one of the pair, and always held the heavy wooden door open for him, leading the way in to the dark, pleasantly stuffy interior. Emmett seemed happy enough to see him.

"Well, if it isn't our favorite newlyweds!"

He was also a bit eager, evidently. Russell nervously scratched an imaginary itchy spot on the back of his head.

"Um, not quite yet…"

Sabrina flung an arm around his shoulder, just roughly enough to feel playful.

"Oh, come on. We are in all but name…"

Russell gave her a nervous smile.

"…Well, if you say so…"

Emmett was already rummaging around behind the bar, clinking glasses as he went.

"You to getting your usual?"

Sabrina lead Russell over to their usual seat at the bar, volunteering, as always, to do most of the talking.

"That'll be good… Right, dear?"

Russell smirked slightly.

"Can't see the problem with it."

Emmett nodded and began filling the glasses, a red wine and a whiskey on the rocks. Russell sat down on his usual stool, pushed up his glasses, and took his first sip of the night, savoring the taste, savoring the stinging, numbing sensation even more so. He had been waiting for this for days without even realizing it, and was glad to finally be here, in the safety of the dim light, preparing to drink himself calm once more. Until, that is, he heard a voice from the shadows.

"Listen, Russell… Russell… She's a handful… Oh, but don't worry, I'm sure it'll be the best… The best six damn months of your life…"

It was, of course, Neumann. Russell cradled his forehead in his hands. _Not this again…_ Neumann had been getting on Russell's case off and on for the past few years, ever since he noticed that his ex-wife had fallen for the _librarian_, of all people. With a sigh, Russell turned around to face him.

"Neumann… Just leave us alone tonight, okay? I don't bother you, so try and do the same for me, okay?"

Russell realized that, unfortunately, he had only made things worse. Neumann had gotten up from his chair, and was now coming towards them.

"You don't bother me, eh? Well, what do you call… She was my wife, and then you…"

Neumann and Russell were now face to face, and Russell feared violence. He had developed a decent right hook in his soldier days, but that was a long time ago, and he had never found himself in a bar fight before.

"I didn't do anything, Neumann. Sabrina… You know as well as I do that it's impossible to make her do _anything_…"

Sabrina raised her glass.

"I'll drink to that!"

Sometimes, Russell wished she would take things more seriously.

"Listen… I'm sorry if you think someone did you wrong somewhere along the line, but tonight… Look, we just don't need any trouble, alright?"

"You… You make trouble! Head full of books, never… Never did an honest day's work in your life… How am I supposed to compete with you… I…!"

Words failing him, Neumann decided to communicate his feelings by ramming a fist straight in to Russell's guts. The force of the impact was enough to make Russell curl in on himself, stunned and gasping. Emmett's patience had finally worn thin.

"…Neumann, you've had enough. Go home, get some rest, and come back tomorrow, if you think you can be civil."

"I…"

Neumann, _go_. This isn't personal, I just can't have you making a scene."

Struggling to find a rebuttal, Neumann finally jammed his hands in his pockets, and, with a sigh, shuffled out of the bar. Russell straightened up and promptly finished his drink, which Emmett immediately refilled.

"This one is on the house… Some people, eh?"

Sabrina shook her head.

"And he wonders why I divorced him twice… The real question is why I _had_ to do it _twice_, right?"

Russell shrugged.

"He's not a bad person…"

"No, you're right. He's just…"

"I know what you mean, yeah…"

Someone new had joined the conversation.

"Russell… I'll tell you right now… I'd have slugged him right back for his trouble."

Russell laughed nervously.

"You don't say, Edward?"

"…Call me Ed… I don't really know, actually… It's nice to think I would, though."

Sabrina chuckled.

"Aren't you supposed to be some kind of pacifist?"

"Not… Not when they had it coming!" He put an arm around Russell's shoulder. "…Anyway, I just want to say congratulations on the engagement! Look at you, Rusty! You're doing pretty damn well, if I do say so myself."

Edward, or, rather, Ed, seemed to prefer the shorter version of pretty much every name he encountered, even if the bearer never actually went by it. Russell, or, rather, "Rusty," had gotten used to it by now.

"I've been feeling pretty great, yeah."

"Good… You know, it's amazing how far you've come in just ten years… I'll just go ahead and say it… When I first took you off lamp grass, I mentally gave you about three, four months before you just up and…" He made a whistling noise, and moved his right index finger in a downward spiral. "…Offed yourself, you know?"

Russell liked Edward, as a person, but had never been a fan of that then-unspoken prognosis. He finished his second drink.

"…Well, you know. I had a kid. Thank Cecilia."

Edward nodded.

"When the time comes, you bet I will… But to be honest, I still kind of worry about your drinking… But we won't talk about that. It'd be pretty hypocritical.." He shook the glass in his own left hand back and forth. "…Hell, I'll even buy you your next round!"

Emmett laughed, and refilled Russell's glass. Sabrina took a sip of wine.

"…Ed, don't ruin my fiancée's liver. I'm pretty sure that's malpractice."

Russell took a gulp, struggling a bit to get all of the warm, numbing liquid down his throat.

"…And I'm personally capable of ruining my own liver, thank you very much."

All four of them had a good laugh, and eventually, Edward returned to his table. Sabrina gently placed her arm around Russell's shoulders, drawing him in to her body. Russell sighed contentedly.

"…What?"

She put her hand on his head, playing with his hair.

"Just what Ed said a few minutes ago… I'm glad you stuck around is all."

"…Oh. That. I was pretty mixed up back then, you know?"

Sabrina thought back to those days, when she read to him as he drifted in a sleepy haze.

"I know."

"And I hope you also know… Well, that… All in the past… Emmett, my glass is almost empty!"

Russell was starting to get blurry. Admittedly, Sabrina loved him when he was like this. It felt like the vulnerability and playfulness that she so loved in him were fully exposed at last. And the gentle slur in his voice reminded her of when he had first started hitting on her, in this very bar. Neither of them seemed quite sure of whether or not he was joking, but either way, it was more than welcome.

The final visitor to their space at the bar was major Lynette, who, unbeknownst to either her or Sabrina, Russell had somewhat fancied for a brief period, shortly after she came to the village. It was partly the same connection that Russell had felt with Edward, the three of them all being former military people. But it was also her authoritative stance, the firmness that Russell craved from a woman, someone who possibly could, once and for all, hold him down until he stopped struggling. And then there was the night that she leaned across the bar, somewhat conspirationally, and let him look under her eye patch… Of course, it never could have worked out. Lynette was different from Russell and Edward in that she still seemed to think that there was honor in war, and Russell didn't know how he could ever feel truly close to such a person. Still, the two of them had something like a distant friendship, and when Russell, Sabrina, and Lynette clinked their three glasses together, there was something satisfying in it. _Goodbye, Lynette… We could never understand one another, but I'm sure someone will love you._ Russell fell back in to Sabrina's arms, and drank until Emmett cut him off. And so, the evening was a success.

"…Russell, you're swerving all over the street!"

"…I'm what now?"

Sabrina, just barely more sober than he was, broke in to laughter.

"You can't even walk straight…"

"I'm… Straight as I can… I…"

With that, he fell to the cobblestones in a heap. Sabrina realized that he was quietly laughing to himself.

"…You're such a drunk, Russell."

"I… Yeah, okay. Sabrina… I am so damn plastered right now. Nothing I say would help my case, would it?"

"Probably not… Do you need help?"

"I think I might…"

Still laughing, Sabrina helped her lover to his feet, and went about all but dragging him to the library.

* * *

_Dear diary,_

_Well, it seems like my father IS getting married… I still can't really believe it, but the wedding is planned for a few days from now… Diary, I'm not sure about any of this. Not only because of all of the things I've already written about Nicholas (though I do still feel for him, __GROSS__ as that may be now), but because of other things, too. Like that I'm not really sure why my father is doing this, or if he's happy. I figured out that he was in kind of a bad way after he adopted me, and when I asked him about this last year, he said it was all in the past, and that he's fine now, but (this seems to be a theme with me lately), I'm not so sure. Can you really be the way he was and then just be okay? I kind of doubt it… And since I know that he didn't really tell me how bad it was back then, why should I believe him when he says he's doing well now? I worry that he's just doing things because he's confused… Like me, I suppose._

_And I don't know, I __like__ Sabrina… (I kind of grew up with her, so I suppose seeing her as a mom isn't much of a stretch.) …But I worry that she isn't right for my dad. She married and divorced the same guy __twice__, and she didn't even really know Nicholas' father, so how do I know she won't just get bored with my poor dad and drop him? Oh, and it seems like she likes to drink, which isn't so bad, I guess… But dad already drinks too much, I think, so I worry about that. (They're at the bar right __now__, if you believe that!)_

_Oh, well. I at least like my dress for the wedding… I put it on and felt SO __PRETTY__! It's kind of floaty, so it reminds me of Sharon (who is another issue… I'm scared that I'm in __**LOVE**__ with her, Diary, so that might make me weird), except it only comes past my knees, and it's blue and purple, not white… I'm thinking of wearing it with the necklace Nicholas made for me… I know I said that I'd __never__ wear it, since I was mad at him for taking the job of making it away from me, but it's so pretty… And I don't know, he was just trying to be nice, so why was I so mean to him? Questions, questions…_

_Love,_

_Cecilia_

_P.S. today I found a magic crystal, a four-leaf clover, a pretty dead wing, an amethyst, and __TWO__ diamonds! So I guess it was an alright day._

When Russell and Sabrina finally returned from the bar, Cecilia was sitting at her desk, sipping strawberry milk, munching on chocolate cookies, and scribbling in her diary. Nicholas had taken a lantern in to Misty Bloom cave to see if he could spot some Lamp Squid. He had asked Cecilia if she wanted to come, and she had politely declined. She wanted some time to herself to think, and besides, he should have _known_ that she'd been somewhat frightened of Lamp Squid since she was small… Something about those transparent bodies… Cecilia shuddered, finished writing, clapped her diary shut, and turned the key in the shining gold lock. Satisfied that her secrets were safe, she hung the key, with its gold chain, around her neck, and fell backwards onto her bed. Through the walls, she could hear her father clumsily trudging around, his words sleepy and indistinct. Sabrina was laughing, and Cecilia heard the two of them falling into her father's bed, and then next to nothing. She thought about what she wrote, decided that she _was_ worried about him, and then decided to do something else, something to get her mind off of everything.

Cecilia grabbed her new dress from its hanger by the window, slithered out of her pajamas, and slid in to the wispy curtain of watery blues and flowery purples, beads and silver threads shining around her neck. She felt better already. And then shyly, reluctantly, reached in to her desk drawer, grasping for the aquamarine necklace, which she, without another thought, slipped it over her head. This was even better. Only one thing could be better still… She reached under her bed, and there it was, now dry and delicate. Her ivy crown. It crackled in her hands, and she had to be careful not to break it as she placed it on to her head. Its withered state gave it a new aura of sadness, which fit her just fine. She heard sounds in the next room, and hoped that her father wasn't going to throw up, as she had walked in on him doing before after a long night at the bar. She shook her head. Even if he did, there was nothing she could do about it, and she probably wasn't even supposed to be awake right now, so she didn't have to concern herself with what went on over there. Now fully bedecked, in her flowing dress, her string of rough-tumbled aquamarines, her wilted crown, she surveyed herself in the mirror.

_I am pretty. I am a queen._

* * *

**A/N: **Ahh… Another long one! But the plot is thickening, so I guess that is to be expected… And the next chapter will have the WEDDING! So that's something to look forward to. ;)

Anyway, I actually quite like this chapter… Writing everyone drunk was fun, if I do say so myself! As was designing Cecilia's dress. I tried to keep the description just a bit vague, so everyone can imagine it for themselves. It's also a return to the focus on Cecilia's thoughts, but it seems like there was a heavy Russell focus as well, hence the chapter title. And if you'll allow me to go on a bit… There was something powerful about that last paragraph, and the image of a young girl escaping reality by adorning herself in her prettiest things while he father is (possibly) throwing up drunk in the next room… Poor Ceci and Russell… Whatever it to become of them?

…Well, you'll just have to keep reading to find out! ;) But do keep in mind that I will be away for a while in the near future, so I don't know when I'll get around to posting… I do have Chapter 5 started, so that should speed things up a bit!


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